Olympian Heroes
by Lowrietial
Summary: SYOC CLOSED! When disorder and logic is messed up in the world, who is there to help? Eunomia, Goddess of law and order, is missing. Things get not so sunny when Erebus rises. Oh? Is that Ophion? Is there any hope at all? Wait, is the only one around a puny little kid? No, several puny kids!
1. Chapter 1: Oliver Learns to Shoot

Olympian Heroes

 **AN: Let's start this off with an apology. I've read the OCs put in the reviews, they're amazing, but I won't accept them. Anyways, this is a small teaser chapter (I'm not sure if you can call this a teaser) but it shall ONLY include this character, Oliver Weber.**

 **NOTE: MILD SWEARING**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Percy Jackson series.**

* * *

Chapter 1| Oliver Learns to Shoot

 **Oliver**

"I won't forgive you."

A phrase he's said many times. A phrase used so often, that at times, the words made his tongue funny. Perhaps they'd been drilled into his brain, sometimes, he said it upon instinct, without really thinking things through. Again, after forcing those words through his clenched teeth, he would end up slamming them enemy into a wall or pole, whatever was near.

Did that happen this time again? Oliver focused his blurred eyes and forced his sloppy body upright. His elbow was against someone's neck, he was growling in rage, his eyes were set in a glare…yep, it happened again.

Somehow, Oliver had never been able to shake away his feelings of rage and hatred for someone else. They always wedged its way back into his brain, screaming ' _kill that guy! Punch 'em in the noggin!'_ It might've been genes; he could've gotten the rage from his rotten father, the old man being the crazed drunk as he always was. It didn't matter, since right now he was about to unwillingly rip a guy's head off.

"Whoa! Bruh, chill! It was only a light push and shove! I can buy you another drink!" The teen said, his voice faint and smothered by Oliver's elbow. The teen wrinkled his…urgh…acne littered nose, and stole a glance at Oliver's chest. "And a new shirt, for that matter." The teen stared with laughing eyes at his light blue t-shirt, stained with Oliver's own slushy.

Light push and shove? Oliver doubted that throwing someone into a garbage bin was considered a ' _light push and shove_ '. He growled. "Don't mess with me." He grinded his teeth, an unhealthy habit of his. His friend, Basil, always tried to stop him, since it supposedly ruined teeth, and according to his brown-haired friend, Oliver had 'perfectly, shiny, rare, white teeth'.

The teen attempted a half-hearted shrug. His dirty blonde hair tousled in the wind. "Put me down, big guy. Unless if you want that pretty face of yours ruined." The teen smirked, his breath rotting of garlic and pizza. Oliver cringed internally, but instead of pulling away, he smacked the teen against the pole with more rough force. The teen sputtered and choked, spraying saliva everywhere. Oliver chose to wisely step back a tad. A normal, much more civilized person would've dropped the poor guy and let him leave, but Oliver wasn't civilized. A normal person wouldn't be here in the first place. They were in an empty parking lot, near a convenience store. Oliver just brought himself a slushy, minding his own business, but this guy came and pushed him smack into a garbage bin.

Why did this guy look like he came straight out of a rock band anyways? He seemed to be the kind of guy no one dared mess with, and Oliver totally wasn't holding this guy in a chokehold, not at all. His wild, spiky blonde hair was annoying and prickly. His leather jacket was itchy and heavy. His shoes had spikes, spikes for the lord's sake! He might as well have tattooed his forehead to say ' _Stay clear of me! I'm a punk rock guy!'_ Imagine being kicked by his shoes. How much would that hurt? That might kill a kidney or two. Maybe make the person bleed to death first.

Oliver had a small habit of daydreaming in the middle of serious moments.

Of course, he only noticed this now.

Oliver got his question answered. The teen kicked him on the shoulder, the one with the arm against the blonde. Something snapped sickly. His stomach twisted. It was sharp. Note to self; don't anger a guy with spiky boots. Oliver suspected that the sharp thingy wasn't a spike, thank the lord. It felt more like a heel. Oh, that would definitely be bruising later. Wincing in pain, Oliver swiftly smacked his shoulder. Another snap. He'd just relocated his shoulder. Tenderly, he touched his neck. With a sharp inhale, he snatched his hand back. The surface of his skin burned when he tapped it even slightly. Nevertheless, he tested his wrist. It could still move. Good enough. Suddenly, the rage that was buried in the pit of his stomach surfaced. His glare wasn't enough to suffice for this anger. The teen spilt his drink. Ruined his shirt. Threw him into a garbage bin. Dislocated his shoulder. Not something he could ignore. Actually, he'd be appalled if someone could walk away, completely cool, after all of that. Oliver stared at the youth. The teen held his stance, stuck between the decisions to run or fight. His dirty, unkempt nails were clenched and hidden away in his balled fist. He looked…scared. Oliver suddenly felt sympathy for they guy. But it vanished as quickly as it came. It was like someone was pushing it away, very gradually and with little effort, just to spite him.

Oliver reached for it again. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't pick on someone who was smaller, weaker than him. It wasn't right. Besides, the teen could've been venting out his anger, or frustration. Maybe he was breaking on the inside. Oliver didn't know, but he couldn't just punch the kid either. Oliver grabbed the last remaining bit of his sympathy by his fingers, but it slipped away faster, as if it were made of water. Suddenly, a horrid scream ran through his head.

 _Revenge._

The voice didn't even sound vengeful. It was desperate, a last effort to catch the ball. A loud, tearful wail of anguish. It was crying. The voice was crying.

The dice rolled. The coin flipped. The decision was made. Oliver scrunched up his own fists, and took a step forward.

* * *

"And you thought that was a great idea because?" Basil screamed, throwing his hands into the air. "I _told_ you to stop picking fights!"

Oliver stared at the far wall as Basil began to pace up and down the corridor, his voice getting louder with every word. "But do you ever listen? NO! No, you do not! You're just _begging_ to get yourself killed!" Basil wrung his curly hair, as if wanting to pull all the roots out.

Oliver sighed and picked himself up from his leaning position against his locker. "I'm fine, stop screaming." He dusted his hands and brushed invisible dust off his jeans. He expected the lecture, he saw it coming, but straight in the morning? That would fry his brain.

"You have a bruise on your collar bone!" Basil snapped back. Oliver glanced down, and cursed swiftly. Too careless, what if a teacher saw him instead of Basil? He pulled the collar of his white long sleeved shirt over the bruise. His bone was sporting an ugly purple colour, and it showed on his tanned skin like a five-year-old's drawing of a flower. The kid tried to stay neat, tried to keep it small and simple, but the world was much too big for his eyes - the drawing ended up being twice the size of his head. The shirt barely covered it. "No I don't." He tried.

Basil looked at him as if he was trying to swallow a frog. "I can't believe the nerve of you!" His friend gripped Oliver's arms tightly, trying his best to glare. "Why- are- you- so- annoying?" He said, with each word he shook Oliver once.

He poked Basil's forehead. "I'm not annoying, you are." The curly-haired guy was much, much shorter than him, reaching his shoulders, so having someone ten inches shorter shaking your bones out was more than a bit irritating.

Basil opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by a soft whirl. Sadly, it was not a forming tornado ready to crush the school. Oliver could recognise that sound anywhere. It made him smile every time.

"Is something the matter, boys?" The motorised humming stopped, and was instead replaced by the deep, smooth voice of Mr Brunner, their ancient mythology teacher. Though the voice was calm, it made him feel like he'd done something very wrong. Mr Brunner stared up at them from his wheelchair, smoothing out the striped blanket over his legs. His chocolate eyes glinted with a slight curiosity as he eyed Oliver.

Brunner was the type of teacher that was easy to get along with. He had a benign face that made you drop your guards quickly. Oliver saw the teacher fiddle with his own hair as he stared at Basil, midway of ripping his curly strands off. They both had that woody, light texture to their hair, as if the both of them had grown from a tree. They were very pale in comparison to Oliver's black hair.

"A bruise, Weber? What happened this time?" He inquired, raising a dark brown eyebrow. Before Basil could interrupt and cause a big scene, Oliver shrugged.

"Just a small, _push and shove_ , sir." He said politely. "With a guy who isn't worth mentioning." He winced slightly as his bruise decided to rudely scream and point out how much of a bitch it was being to his collarbone, but disguised it as a stretch, which of course made his arm hurt more.

Mr Brunner did not look convinced. He rubbed his faint wrinkles lightly and sighed. "Both of you boys, to my office. Now." He made a complete U-turn, and started rolling towards his office, his wheelchair, in dire need of oil, squeaking along the whole way.

Basil wrung his hair in the same way Oliver saw farmers pull out potatoes, and meekly followed, mumbling rapidly. He stared at their retreating backsides for a moment, before shoving his hands into his pockets. Instantly, something uncomfortable was shoved under his nails. He pulled his fingers out. There was a little bit of gray dust stuck to his fingertips. Swiftly, he looked around to see if there were any witnesses. Spotting none, he used his thumb to wipe his fingers clean, before following after the pair.

* * *

The office was surprisingly plain. It was the same as last week, and last month – last year, in fact. He remembered Mr Brunner promising to add some decorations yesterday, after he declared his office being too boring, but it seemed like he'd forgotten to. Unless if Mr Brunner were installing a DJ stand and a disco ball, Oliver would've waited for years, if that was the case. In which, it is most likely not.

"I think he's one of them." Basil finished.

Oh great, he missed out on something. Curse his concentration.

"I believe so too." Mr Brunner agreed, nodding seriously.

Ok, he was a what? "And what am I, exactly?" Oliver asked, crossing his arms. He expected something like 'delinquent' or 'damn, stupid jock' or some other nasty insult like that. Instead, he got an unusual answer.

"A demigod, Oliver. We think that you're a demigod." Basil concluded. Strangely enough, he said that with a straight face.

Oliver waited. He waited for the laughing, the jokes, saying 'ahaha! Just kidding!' There was only silence. Then his mentally insane brain thought things over. "Oh, is that a new word for rebel or something? Well, you point this out now? Could've done so a couple of years ago." Oliver unfolded his arms and ran his fingers through his hair.

"No, Oliver, we're talking about a _demigod_. You know, the children of mortals and gods? The mythological gods we learnt about in class?" Mr Brunner said, almost impatiently. He rolled out from behind his desk and rode over to Oliver. "You are orphaned, right?"

Oliver bit his lip. Yes, he was. His father was- Suddenly, his tongue dried up. He thickly swallowed his saliva. Oh, the drugs. The screaming. The endless bottles of alcohol. Awful. Smashing. Glass shards. He was hit with them. The punches. He acted like nothing happened. It _hurt._ His father didn't understand- didn't hear- didn't care. It had hurt _so_ much. But then the man died. Car crash. Left this world for good. He was neither happy nor upset, neither relieved nor grieved. No one, no one but him, attended his funeral. It hadn't even been a proper one. It was just a hastily dug up hole. He caked his fingers with mud. And the body. Urgh, the body was so-

"Oliver?" The loud snap of fingers made his ears ring, and the sudden movement of hands flashed across his vision. Mr Brunner sat in his small wheelchair, a concerned look framing his face. Oliver jerked his head back, suddenly on guard. "What does being orphaned have to do with me being a _demigod_?" Oliver snapped, pulling out the last word. He couldn't stop the glare that littered his face. It's just- why bring up that horrid man? No, he shouldn't be mad at Brunner. Why did he _think_ about that horrid man?

Mr Brunner frowned slightly, thought it seemed to be out of worry. "Come outside, Oliver, there is something I need to show you." He slid past and made for the door, opening it silently.

Oliver never realised how stuffy it was in the room until some fresh air was let in. Basil shot him a sympathetic glance and patted his back gently. The curly-haired then grasped the handles of Mr Brunner's wheelchair, gliding him swiftly outside. Following behind closely, Oliver shut the door. It closed with a small click, indicating that it was locked. Mr Brunner had a habit of leaving his door on lock, so it could close without him needing to use his keys.

The hallways, which were empty, were suddenly flocked with students. It was the last day of school days, and generally, most students didn't attend school on the last day. So it was slightly surprising to see a lot of students still in school. It was even more surprising to see Mr Brunner go right past the school office, not reporting for leaving school grounds.

"Aren't you going to report to the office?" Oliver asked.

Instead of answering, Basil led Mr Brunner out further, past the students still lingering outside. Some waved to the teacher, and he waved back. At first, Oliver thought that it was the natural thing, standing outside to talk, since it's quiet, but he became concerned once they started walking out of the school. "Where are we going?"

"We must leave, they're here." Mr Brunner said, his voice laced with panic. "We can't let them attack us here."

"What? Attack?"

Again, no answer. Basil and Mr Brunner continued striding ahead. Honestly, Oliver thought that he was being kidnapped. Now was the time to say that he trusted these people. They betrayed him, and dirtied his trust in them. But, thinking back, Basil _did_ have a small, trimmed beard. The typical look for a kidnapper. Suspiciously, Mr Brunner always had the blanket on his lap, no matter what weather. It could be a steaming hot day and he'd still wear it. Oliver had always thought of it as a momentum or something of the sort. Maybe something to remember his family with. Thinking logically, Mr Brunner probably hid a set of guns under the blanket, waiting for the day to massacre the school. What if he'd had a grudge against the teachers and students at the school? He might've secretly hated them all. The students he waved to, he probably imagined shooting them all with assault rifles and watching their guts paint the floor red. And to think that Basil was involved!

Now was probably the best time to run, since they probably deemed him too stupid to think of that. Oliver stepped down on the pavement, with the strength pushed to his front legs, preparing him to turn around and bolt for it and maybe call the cops in the process.

But Oliver always _loved_ to daydream in the middle of serious situations.

He wasn't on the busy street anymore. In fact, he was on a rocky road, brown from all the dirt and dust on it. The surrounding area wasn't made of buildings and lights. No, it was a bunch of green. Nature. Trees. Endless grassland. His worse enemy.

"They're here." Mr Brunner said suddenly.

Oliver did the natural thing; he turned around. Let's just say that 'being scared shitless' was a nice, subtler way of putting it.

 _Pigeons._

A whole flock of them. Oh no, not normal ones. Normal pigeons wouldn't have even made him blink. These were GIANT pigeons. Yippee! They flew closer, their wings cutting through the air faster than any jet. They looked ready to dive. Joy. Their ugly- HANDSOMELY sharp beaks that look way scarier than your average butcher knives would just pierce Oliver like a cupcake. Then there were the claws. As if the beaks weren't enough! Their claws shimmered in the sun, making it look like they were drooling, ready to rip apart Oliver's skin. Hell, if he walked out here in full shinning chain armour, he still wouldn't feel safe. He might've seemed insane to Basil and Mr Brunner, but he yelled, "GIANT PIGEONS?!" and turned to them.

Except, Mr Brunner and Basil weren't Mr Brunner and Basil. Mr Brunner was a giant white stallion, hips down. He had a horsetail and it was incredibly brushy and…Basil was a goat, ha-ha, goat legs. Hooves- NO. This was it. Maybe Oliver had enough; maybe life was too much for him to handle after all. He was going mental. He should ring up those people who take other people into asylums and make them take him there. For the greater good of humanity.

Suddenly, he felt himself being choked by his collar. No wait, that was just Brunner lifting him onto his back. He landed on a white horse. No, Mr Brunner- no wait, a white horse. Horse or Brunner? Didn't matter, he was hallucinating either way. C'mon God, he was too old for imagination. Basil…or the half goat thingy, jumped on in front of him. "Hurry Chiron!" He (or was he an it?) screamed.

The Brunner-horse, snapped into action, bolting down the road faster than any sports car. Despite the weird situation, this reminded Oliver oddly of a princess being rescued by a knight in shinning armour. Except, the horse was his teacher, and his knight was a goat, who was still ten inches shorter than him.

The death-pigeons still flew after them in perfect sync, not loosing speed.

"Shake them off!" Goat-Basil screamed again. He waved his arms around wildly (thank god he still had hands) and flicked them at the birds. "Shoo! Damn Stymph Birds! Shoo!"

Oliver could barely grasp the situation, but he knew that screaming 'shoo' at highly deadly pigeons with razor sharp beaks and mouths for claws wouldn't make them flinch.

"Do you think that I can shake them off?" Brunner-horse retorted. "Hit them with rocks or something! Kill them!" Brunner's voice was highly strained. It occurred to Oliver that he'd never heard him raise his voice before. It was new. But having your friend turn into a goat and your teacher turn into a horse was also new.

"With what? The wind?! Think logically Chiron!" What's with Basil calling Mr Brunner, Chiron? It was all going by too fast. Please let this be a dream, a weird one which he could rant out to Basil the next day. It felt like Oliver was just thrown into the middle of a movie and was suddenly told to figure everything out. So, he said something that would've made all his teachers proud.

'WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!"

Basil looked at him as if he'd just noticed him. "You're a demigod! I'll explain later!" Then Basil went back to doing something more important, such as shooing birds, while he decided to not tell his best friend why he and Brunner were animals and why they had pigeons that probably worked for Satan themselves, chasing after them.

Then Basil-goat's eyes lit up. Oliver swore that he saw a light bulb pop at the top of his head. Basil-goat reached into his sweater and pulled out a gun. A shotgun. He then passed it to Oliver, with a calming, gentle smile, while holding a shotgun the size of his arm.

"Shoot 'em down bud!"

Gun. Oliver was just handed a shotgun. Fifteen-year-old Oliver was just handed a shotgun.

"Why the Hades do you have a shotgun?!" Horse-Brunner yelled, clearly distressed. His voice was strangely loud, a huge difference from the soft, gentle tones that felt like small waves.

"One of the Ares kids gave it to me!"

"Which one?!"

"I don't know!"

What does one do when handed a twelve-gauge shotgun that can easily tear the human brain out while being chased by giant pigeons? Shoot, of course. Did Oliver have any experience? No. Did Oliver know how to handle one? No. Honestly, he didn't even know how to reload. Oliver didn't know what he was doing. His hands automatically locked on his target, like he was used to it, like he'd done this before. He pulled the trigger. The loud bang halted the fight between Brunner and Basil.

Oliver half expected to end up flying into space due to the recoil, but he was perfectly fine. He hadn't moved. Instead, one of the birds tumbled down, a disarray of brown and grey feathers, smashing into the road, landing with a loud thump that could've rivalled the sound of Oliver's gun. Still in shock, Oliver watched as it begun to melt, shifting into golden dust, like the pollen of a flower. The wind blew the remains away.

There was complete silence as Oliver took aim again.

"WHY THE HADES DID YOU SHOOT?!" Basil-goat screeched, his panicked face speaking high levels of shock. He ripped at his curly hair, looking like he was willing to bite the strands off.

"YOU TOLD ME TO SHOOT!"

"IT WAS A JOKE, I DIDN'T EXPECT YOU TO!"

Instead of arguing further, Oliver fired again. The sound made his ears ring annoyingly, but that was the least of his worries. His brain was sickly focused on the birds, all of them flying quite a distance away. His eyes shifted to the next bird. By moving one finger, it went sailing down to earth. He didn't know how long that carried on for, his detached perspective of shooting down birds, but soon, there were none left. He hadn't missed a single one of them. Nauseated, Oliver shoved the gun back to Basil. He'd just killed a bunch of animals, deadly or not, without a second thought. He didn't even have time to breathe, and catch up, during the fires. He. Just. Kept. Shooting.

It was Basil and Brunner's turns to be aghast. Basil let out a wild scream of confusion. "HOW? YOU DIDN'T EVEN HAVE A SCOPE, DUDE!"

Brunner stopped galloping and slowed down to a trot. His horsetail swished with anxiety. "I'm too old for this." He commented silently. He rubbed the wrinkles on his forehead. A habit. Ok, this was definitely Mr Brunner – a half-hybrid horse, but still Mr Brunner.

Basil started wrestling his arms into the air, waving them around dramatically, as if he were trying to grab words out of the sky. Well, Oliver wouldn't be surprised if he actually did, since, he was a goat, Brunner was a stallion, and he, himself, just shot down twenty or so of those murder-death pigeons with a shotgun.

He raised his eyebrow at Basil, hoping that that would suffice for words; he was afraid that talking would just leave him stuttering like a mad man. Apparently, after being his friend for two years, Basil still didn't understand what the raising of the eyebrow meant. He stared at Oliver with his owlishly chocolate eyes, his dark pupils flickering, as if trying to search for a hidden message. Well, he would be searching for a while because there was nothing 'hidden' about it.

"What's happening?" Oliver said, after Basil studied his face for a few more seconds. He was aware of how grim his voice sounded, how his mouth was set in a straight line.

Then Basil snapped his fingers, an irritable, quick, sharp movement. "You're a demigod, mate. A Child of a mortal and god, or goddess. You see that shooting you did before? Yeah, that has to do with you being a demigod."

' _Oh, of course, everything makes sense now, thanks Basil!'_ Is what he would've liked to say, unfortunately, reality wasn't that easy. "And you're a giant unicorn cow that will destroy all of New York within seconds."

"Actually, I'm a satyr." Basil corrected.

"Not the point. What is a…say-tar…goat thingy anyways?" Before any more comments could be made from the both of them, they were both lifted by their collars and placed gently on the ground. Brunner, the horse –no wait, he was starting to think that having a half horse body was normal on Mr Brunner. God help him please. Anyhow, the great white stallion lightly kicked his legs up, stirring a little bit of dust. "Oliver, we can't explain right now, this is not a safe place, please wait until we reach camp, I'll be able to clearly access everything there." Mr Brunner said calmly.

Oliver bit his lip. He was still hanging on to the fact that this was all just a dream, or just some crazy imagination scenario his mind ran off with. Unfortunately, all of this seemed very real, which was a very bad thing. If this was starting to seem real to Oliver, then he actually might be mental. Maybe his mother hit his head when he was younger. Ah, he's shot down giant pigeons, logic doesn't really matter anymore. Oliver found himself nodding slowly. He licked his dry lips; his face scrunching up in disgust, as he tasted the faintest bit of dirt caked on his mouth.

Brunner smiled, not one of his common, flashy smiles, but rather, the kind of smile a father would give to his son when he graduated.

"Call me Chiron."

* * *

 **AN: Not my best work, but anyways, this is the list of the people who made it, since I have to credit them for their amazing OCs ;)**

 **This is in no particular order.**

 **Ferrer Fabrizio Cooper – thedaffodilqueen**

 **Mikaela Kai Reyes – MadnessAndMe**

 **Cliff Evans – Nsing**

 **Brandon Roy – ryzlow98**

 **Jayce Covington – AceSeesYouuu**

 **Madeline Maddy Cassie Hall – Mistycharming**

 **Edd Wayne – Copicat123321**

 **Royce Wallace – dualitydisorder**

 **Emerald faith Wilson – EileenAbbey**

 **Neriah Jane Finley – HappyAnimalLover**

 **And of course, our dearest Oliver Weber – Kayoi1234**

 **Plus, we have a villain, but I shall not reveal this person yet. *** **laughs evily** *****


	2. Chapter 2: Freezing to Death is not Cool

Olympian Heroes

 **AN: Thank you so much for the reviews. I read them over and over again like a teenage girl reading a love letter. Kinda sad really, what my life has been reduced to. Oh, Oliver is not 16, he is 15. That was a mistake on my behalf, sorry. I also forgot to put down a few other people who got their OC accepted. This is what happens when you rush, people. Speeding while writing a story is just as dangerous as speeding on the road.**

 **On the plus side, we have some character introductions~! Man, I love writing about your characters.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Percy Jackson series. Nor do I own Snow Partol.**

* * *

Chapter 2| Freezing to Death is not Cool

 **Oliver**

"Welcome to Camp Half-Blood."

Chiron reached a giant hill, and spread his arms over the view. Basil nodded along eagerly, smiling and putting his thumbs up.

"You get to stay here, free! This five-star rate acre of land is available to your needs, twenty-four seven! There will also be services such as, toilets, food, and beverages without any additional charges! And there will also be many sources of entertainment, such as fun games and campfire sing-a-longs!" Basil cheered, throwing his hands into the air.

You know that Basil's seen too many ads if he starts talking like an annoying prick.

"Great. I'm amazed. Ok, I'm going home now, bye." Oliver spun on his heel, facing the way he just came, but there was a horrible thing called a 'collar'.

Chiron grabbed him and pulled him back with great strength. Oliver tried walking. His feet kicked up dust from the ground. Nope, he couldn't move. Maybe being a horse-man had its perks after all. "It's not that bad, Oliver."

With a defeated sigh, Oliver squinted his eyes to see what Chiron was pointing at. Now, Oliver was a tired, messed up, possibly insane kid, so squinting seemed like the appropriate action to do when one wants to look further away. With blurred vision, he saw an old dilapidated farmhouse with a rapidly fading red coating. Was this the 'camp' Chiron talked about? Looked more like a prison, or a place where you bury dead bodies. "I question your sanity if you can call _that_ a camp" Oliver pointed out.

Suddenly, his collar was released, and his shirt settled back on his shoulders. "I bet you're seeing a farm right now, yes? Oliver, that is the work of the Mist, that is not the actual camp." Chiron commented, frowning a bit.

Oliver didn't know what he meant by 'mist' since the atmosphere was so clear that if a cow dropped out of the sky, people in Mexico would've noticed. "What mist? I see no mist."

Chiron sighed, his fatigue evident in his eyes. "Don't worry about it now, I'll explain to you when we get inside camp."

By camp, he meant the farm. By farm he meant the death house where he preformed satanic rituals to summon some ol' demon. Of course, Oliver would happily hand over his life…if he was suicidal, and Oliver was pretty sure that he wasn't.

"How about you let me call the cops first, hmm?" He tried for a smile. It seemed to be more of a grimace.

Instead of Chiron answering Basil did. "NO PHONES!" Basil rushed over to him and started patting his arms, the kind of checking he'd seen police do. "GIMME YOUR PHONE!" Basil screamed with frantic and quick breaths, as if he were close to drowning. Oliver pushed the rampaging goat away by his forehead.

"Why do you want my phone?" Subconsciously, Oliver felt for the familiar outline of his phone in the back of his jean's pockets. Unfortunately, Basil had sharp eyes when it came to finding these small things. The goat smacked Oliver's hand away, making a grab for the device.

"AHA!" Basil-goat held it above his head triumphantly. Unfortunately for him, Oliver could still reach it easily. Before he could take it back, Basil threw it into the air and landed a karate kick on it with his hoof, smashing it into bits.

Oliver would've loved to say, ' _the shattered glass fell like beautiful snowflakes, making winter arrive early today,'_ but no. A karate-kicking goat destroyed his phone. The glass shards clanked to the ground, splintering his ears. Then, with a loud, pathetic lump, there fell his phone case.

He didn't get to kiss good-bye to the cops yet.

For what seemed like a long time, he stared at the cracked screen, lying on the floor like a spider's ruined web. There was silence on Chiron and Basil's end too. Oliver appreciated it, the one minute of silence for the death of his device, an old token from his deceased father. But alas, reality came and slapped him in the face.

"BASIL!"

The half-goat 'eep'ed, and dashed away from him, taking refuge behind Chiron. "I'm sorry, Oliver!" He squeaked.

The alarm resounded through his head again. _Revenge._ How dare- a token from his father, back when he was ok, when he was sane, when he still cared. It was gone. Possibly the final, and only memoir, left of the good times. Gone, so quickly, like his dad.

Basil peeked out from behind Chiron's horsetail, yelped and ducked behind the stallion again. Oliver bit the inside of his cheek. "Do you happen to have any cooking experience, Chiron? We're having goat tonight." Oliver hauled the shotgun over his shoulder. The siren screamed loudly in his head again.

 _Revenge. Revenge. Revenge._

At first, it seemed like something he could ignore. Happened all the time. But the longer Oliver waited, the more urgent the message got. It was pounding itself into his skull, screeching, yelling, stabbing. It started to get unbearably loud. Chiron opened his mouth.

 _Revenge. Revenge. Revenge._

His ears rung. He couldn't hear anything. Chiron looked at him confusedly, and snapped his fingers. Oliver expected the loud click, the same annoying sound, but he heard nothing. The roar in his head was much, much louder. It was like an itch that needed scratching, a habit that needed to be done, he raised his gun.

He forced it back down again.

Right there. He had intentions to shoot Basil. He had intentions to _hurt_ Basil. The sounds were loud; loud enough to send ripples through his brain. Noise has never hurt him this much before. It sent painful aches down his ears, and he vaguely wondered if his eardrums would burst. There it was again. The shrieking, wailing, the hammer-like assault on his head. They were wondering why he was hesitating.

 _Do it._

 _Shoot him._

 _Get your revenge._

With all his of his willpower, he forced himself to drop the gun. It struck the ground, sending dust flying. He expected to hear at least something like a clatter, but the voices in his head lashed out, piercing his mind, colliding together to make a tidal wave in his head.

Now, imagine putting your ear up against static on a radio. It's loud; it hurts your ears, right? Well, that's what it felt like to Oliver. Nothing could block it out. His lungs throbbed, as if they were the ones screaming this wave of madness. The voices were trying to talk over each other, and in order to be heard, you must be louder than the others.

Was his dad still trying to get at him? Even after death? Why? Why couldn't he just leave him alone?

 _Revenge upon that one as well._

 _Yes, yes._

How? Dead. You can't get revenge upon the dead. No- no. His dad- he was neutral. No opinions. He couldn't-

Chiron was shaking him. His mouth was opening and closing. He looked frantic. Basil- _revenge_ \- no! Basil was…ok. He was fine. But Basil also looked worried. He was also opening and closing his mouth. It looked like the both of them were screaming. The voices started getting more frantic. Crying. They were wailing. They were desperate now. Clawing. They were begging. Oliver covered his ears. The voices only got louder.

 _Accept it!_

He couldn't breathe. His lungs refused to obey him. He couldn't move. He couldn't do-talk. He-he couldn't think. The voices were angry. Swarming. They engulfed him.

* * *

 _Oliver slowly peeled his hand away from the sticky substance on the leather. He felt like retching, but held it in. Instead, he shuffled backwards, until his back was against the safety of the couch. The bruised and beaten leather couch was full of rips and holes that pinched his skin, but if Oliver could squeeze his small body into the right spot, it wouldn't bother him much. Tired, he hugged his knees against his body. School was horrible. The teachers couldn't teach. The learners didn't learn. Friends didn't create friendship. The bullies, now, the bullies were actually doing their job. Oliver stared at his purple elbows. Purple was starting to look like his natural skin colour._

 _Oh he'd wished such ill things upon them. He strangled them, punched, kicked, and made them bleed in his head. He only did this in his mind because he simply couldn't do it in reality. He was too weak. It was pathetic, really._

 _Click._

 _Oliver's eyes widened. Breathe. Mechanical steps. Normal. Calm down. He controlled his heavy breathing._

 _Breathe. Air. Calm. Footsteps. Oh, God, please slow down the footsteps. Stop them. Breathe. Oliver, control your arms. Stop shaking. Oh, please stop the footsteps. Tears. No don't cry-DO NOT cry._

 _A small sob whispered past Oliver's lips as he stared at the dark silhouette in the doorway. His teeth were chattering loudly. His heart was going on a marathon._

 _The figure turned._

 _He went into tunnel vision. The rest of the room, the broken TV, the kitchen piled with dirty dishes, the coffee table lined with broken bottles of beers and wine, all of it blurred. Oliver tried to make himself as invisible as possible, rolling, squirming, moving further and further back. He needed to get some distance between him and that- that_ _ **thing**_ _. A part of the open skin of the sofa cut into his palm, but he couldn't focus on that. The figure kept staring at him. It wouldn't turn. Turn. Turn. Turn. Look away. Ignore him._

 _It never ignored him._

" _What are you looking at?"_

 _It's voice. It was raspy, broken, so worn out. It croaked and creaked, straining to get the words out._

 _Suddenly, the figure wasn't at the door anymore. It was closer, much closer. It grabbed his wrists. Pain. Pain shot up his arm. No. Stop. He hadn't done anything wrong._

 _He hadn't done anything._

"C'mon big guy, open your eyes."

Something cold grazed Oliver's cheek, before rubbing the corner of his right eye. Though the action was slow, he felt something sharp, like a human nail.

"Oh! That just reminded me of a classic!"

The sound continued. It was light, high-pitched. Feminine. His mind immediately latched onto the possibility that it could be a girl. It was gentle, lapsing, like waves. It locked onto him, slurring him back into sleep.

"I want so much to open your eyes."

Oliver could hear the smile in her voice.

"'Cause I need you to look into mine."

Voice. _Revenge._ No. That snake. The high-pitched rapidness. The voices, the slithering, echoing, resonating as one.

"Tell me that you'll open your eyes."

 _Revenge._ It hissed, seething with black, anger, desist, loathing- boiling, viscous waves of- _Revenge._

His eyes snapped. The voice. ' _Kill it,_ ' something hissed in his ears. For once, Oliver didn't disagree with it. He snatched the hand, the one caressing his cheek. The singing stopped.

Oliver could feel the bones. Just a little- a little more force, and he would be able to break it.

"WHOA! DUDE, STOP! IT'S GONNA BREAK!"

The loud shout of pain shoved his face into a cold bucket of common sense. A human hand. No monster. No rough skin. Calloused fingertips. Petite nails. Definitely not a monster.

Oliver turned the palm over. Normal. It had the line marks and wrinkles his own hand had. He loosened his grip. Immediately, the hand snatched itself away. Another hand went to rub the wrist. Oliver saw a large red mark. The mark he'd left behind.

Guilt took him by the neck and throttled him. He looked up. Oliver was met with a mass of blonde hair. It _was_ a girl, a very pretty one. Her cat-like eyes gave her face an almost childish lift, the shade being a dark brown like Oliver's. Her golden eyebrows crossed briefly as she frowned, still rubbing her wrist. Cautiously, she reached out to feel his forehead. She withdrew quickly, as if still afraid that he would lash out again. "You seem fine, despite the mentality." She spoke slowly, her voice barely a whisper. She swiftly breathed a sigh through her teeth and stood up. With a tanned arm, she flicked her mid-back length hair over her shoulder. Her chocolate eyes flickered over Oliver's body for a second, as if assessing his condition with something even the x-ray couldn't do.

So Oliver interrupted the awkward moment with an intelligent comment.

"Oh."

There was silence as the both of them had a brown-eyed stare-down. The girl arched a golden eyebrow. "'Oh'?" she echoed. Before Oliver could embarrass himself further, the girl bust out laughing, her chest heaving heavily as she struggled to regain breath. "First word you say as soon as you wake up is, 'oh'? Not 'where am I?' or 'what's going on?'" She placed her hands on her hips, her laughter finding no chance to die down. Her body shook as she struggled to contain herself. "Jeez, the new kid is a freak!" She let a few more snickers escape before she sat back down on the stool again. She stared Oliver dead in the eyes with some sort of random determination. "Oliver, right? Oliver Weber? I'm Madeline Cassie Hall, call me Maddy." Her earlier unease seemed to have vanished along with her laughing. She held her hand out.

Oliver felt nervous about holding the hand that he was just about to break, but he took it anyways. "Yeah…um, sorry." He muttered, as he eyes the red mark that was bruising rapidly.

Maddy followed his gaze and stared at her wrist. She flicked it in the air, dismissing his worry. "Don't worry, I'll just have some nectar." She strained her fingers over to the desk on Oliver's right. Her nails picked at a small clear bottle, filled to the brim with a golden liquid that seemed to act as a mini lamp. After a small sound of frustration, she slightly lifted herself from the stool and grabbed the bottle between her thumb and forefinger. She ripped open the cap excitedly. Without a moment's hesitation, she placed it in her lips, gulping down half of it. She pulled it from her lips an gave a sigh, as if she'd downed a glass of good-tasting wine. "That's chocolate for you! Great stuff!" She made a face, as if she'd eaten something very sweet. She then squeezed the lid back on and placed it back at its original spot on the table with a loud clatter.

Maddy licked her lips clean as she stared at him, as if expecting some sort of remark. Oliver blinked. Why in the lord's name was he sitting on a bed, in a room, alone with a blonde girl? Where was he anyways? The room looked like a hospital ward. It had plain cotton sheets, pulled aside from white beds, neatly set with folded sheets. The corners were stacked messily with open and closed cardboard boxes. He saw Band-Aids and crutches sticking out of some of them. What happened? Was he hurt? He remembered standing next to a hill with Chiron and Basil…

Oliver suddenly jerked his head, as if he'd been slapped. "Excuse my incompetence, but did you just call a thing flowers make, chocolate?"

Instead of answering, Maddy held up her wrist. She pointed at it eagerly. "Look! Look! It's healing!" Slightly annoyed that she ignored him so easily, Oliver obliged reluctantly. Indeed, the bruise was healing, disappearing as if fading into her skin, crawling back into the tissue, as if it weren't there in the first place. Suddenly, he felt nauseous again. Wounds simply do not heal within three seconds. "Err, is there a toilet around here?" His stomach and brain whirled in unison. Maddy grinned, completely oblivious to his state of mind.

"Aww, c'mon, you're a tough guy! Let's go outside! Besides, I fed you the same thing, and you're just fine!" She leaped up from her stool, her bright orange t-shirt bouncing as it caught in the small breeze. Cautiously, Oliver licked his lips. There was still the faint taste of- he froze. It was the biscuits his dad used to buy for him. Was it a coincidence? Why was he tasting-

"Nectar lets you taste what you like. Awesome, right?" Maddy cheered, reading his expression. Yet again, before Oliver could move, or say anything else, the blonde in front of him hopped from one leg to the other impatiently. "I'll take you to Chiron. Hurry up." Suddenly, Oliver's shoulder was grabbed, and he was violently tugged out of the hospital bed. He smacked the ground with a loud thud and his legs fell along with him, the blanket hanging onto his feet, as if trying to bring him back.

"What are you doing?" The girl persisted; as if she expected him to ninja flip out of the bed. "I'm taking you to Chiron! Be happy!"

"I'm not sure if I want to see a half human-horse hybrid. I'll stay here, thanks." Oliver retorted, struggling to kick the blankets away from his ankles.

"I'll carry you if you want!" Maddy offered, holding her arms out. She bounced energetically on her yellow, blinding tennis shoes, an equally bright companion with her neon orange shirt. "I need the workout anyways!" She did a few stretches with her arms.

"No, no, no!" Suddenly, Oliver felt the need to jump out of the window and just make a wild run for it. Sure, the girl was pretty, but she was energetic to the point where she was scary.

Maddy frowned. "Look, kid, I may be Apollo's child, but that doesn't mean that I won't drag you out there." Her mood dropped from one hundred to zero within a matter of seconds. Her face deadpanned. Oliver thought that she wore her happier expression much better.

So, instead of apologising, Oliver, with his natural, amazing ways of communicating, said something smart.

"Apollo? You mean the bike company?"

The next thing he knew, he was in a triangle arm-lock.

"I WILL DRAG YOUR DEAD BODY THERE!" Maddy screamed, tightening her grip.

Oliver sputtered, and attempted to remove her arm. "No, seriously, what's going on?!" He forced out.

"I'm killing you! That's what's going on!"

Oliver made a mental note: _don't mess with cute, blonde chicks, you scumbag._ Suddenly, he heard thumping down the corridor. At first, he'd thought that it was the police marching in, ready to pulverise the girl and send her to prison. Instead, it was a boy with dark skin and long black hair.

"Bright eyes?" He questioned, staring at Maddy with a horrified expression. Honestly, if Oliver walked in on a scene like this, he would just slowly close the door and walk away, as if it never happened.

Thank God, his lord and saviour was here. Around his neck, Maddy froze, and pushed him away gently, as if afraid that he would shatter into a million pieces. She stood up slowly, and brushed her skinny jeans, as if ridding herself of all the evidence. "Hi, Royce, nice to see you." She laughed; a tad bit nervous and hauled him up. Meanwhile, Oliver was sputtering like a fish, taking laboured breaths. He struggled to place his grip on the ground.

"You know, Bright eyes, it'd be nice if you _didn't_ try to kill our new campers," Royce rolled his eyes as he leaned on the doorway.

Oliver saw Maddy pout a bit. "He was annoying me."

Although Oliver could not express his thoughts at that moment, he wanted to scream: _I DIDN'T DO SHIT! YOU SUDDENLY GOT VERY IMPATIENT WITH ME!_

Royce caught hold of his eyes, and grinned. "You're Oliver, right? The dude that fainted?" The youth collected himself from the doorway and offered a hand. "Welcome to Camp Half-Blood."

Oliver eyed Royce carefully. He was wearing the same shirt as Maddy, the bright orange one with the slogan, _Camp Half-Blood_. The youth stood with his back straight, as if he were ready to jump into a pool to rescue a drowning girl any second.

He took his hand gladly. For a gentle looking guy, Royce had a strong grip. It was then that Oliver noticed the muscles on his arms. Ah, better him than some crazy blonde kid that proclaimed herself as the child of a god. As if reading his thoughts, Maddy looked a tad bit offended. She put her hands on her hips and glanced at Royce. "I'll go talk to Chiron, take him outside."

Oliver suddenly ripped his hand away from Royce. Maddy's tone made it seem like he was going to be taken away into a prison, where they left stupid kids like him to rot, and, considering the taller boy's athletic appearance, resistance seemed futile.

Royce held up his hands in a surrender sign. "Whoa there! Chill bud, we don't bite." He laughed and placed a big hand easily on the shorter boy's shoulder, gently offering support. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maddy making a snapping motion with her jaw, as if she were a rabid dog.

Pulling a face, she happily skipped out of the room in search of Chiron. Royce smiled as her blonde hair disappeared out of the door. "Excuse my friend, she's a little…hyper." He began, as soon as Maddy was out of earshot. He turned to Oliver and flashed a toothy smile. "Who's your immortal parent, Scrappy?"

Oh no, great, another insane person. And here, Oliver thought he found someone reliable. "I'm pretty sure that both of my parents are human." He said, rubbing his toe against the ground. Honestly, he wasn't used to people being taller than him. Basil was still ten inches shorter and Chiron used to sit in a wheelchair all day. People being taller than him…made him uncomfortable.

Royce clicked his tongue. "What do you mean, both of your parents are mortal? If you've come to this camp, that means that one of your parents must be immortal." He sighed and ran his hand down his face. "Well, I guess you're still confused. Let's go outside."

He grabbed Oliver not-so-gently by his shoulders and pushed him out of the room. The raven-haired tried to protest, but Royce's hands were firm on his shoulders. "W-wait, can't we-"

Oliver's foot caught itself on a piece of the wooden floor that was not nailed down properly and was nearly sent flying on his face. That effectively silenced him.

"Watch your step." Royce mentioned _after_ he nearly fell.

"Thanks." Oliver grumbled.

 _Revenge._

The sudden sound roared through his ears like a motor blade. Honestly, Oliver was putting his dignity on the line here; he'd never been so scared in his entire life. He could handle drunken dads, death pigeons, goats and horses, but this shook him to the point where his legs refused to move. He remembered the loud screaming, the anguished cries of people he didn't know.

"Scrappy?"

Again. The sounds were slowly flooding back into his ear. He dreaded, he somehow _knew_ that the voices wouldn't end. He turned to Royce. "I-I…" He tried to force the words out. He couldn't. His tongue turned to mush and his voice refused to listen to him. He ended up gaping like a fish while the look on the taller boy's face grew more concerned. He wanted to tell Royce something. Not to help him, or to call a medic, but to stop him. Like a stupid itch that needed to be scratched, it practically punched him the face; the realisation that he needed to be _stopped._

"Whoa, dude, breathe. Dammit, what did Bright Eyes say about these things again?" Royce studied his face, while trying to remain calm. "A-Ah, dude, you're turning…blue. Umm, look, scrappy, I know that this is a lot to take in all at once but trust me, everything will make sense once we explain to you." The taller boy couldn't keep the panic out of his voice as Oliver began to shake.

His eyes flickered over to the wooden board he nearly tripped over, and he nearly passed out as the voices went wilder.

 _Revenge._

The sounds painted a picture in his mind, telling him to tear the house down, to wreck it, and watch as it crumbled beneath his feet. He couldn't do that. Something stubborn at the back of his skull reminded him to breathe, and ignore the voices. Hesitantly, he managed to form a sentence with his dry throat. "O-Outside, please."

Royce wasted no time dragging Oliver outside. The dimness of the hallway brightened, and Oliver could feel the wind on his face. He took a few steps further and his brain fired him a lazy response. He was outside, and he was standing on grass. The internal buzz of the voices quietened, but they still remained there, as if someone just turned the volume down with a television remote. There was a strong hand on his shoulder. "You ok?" It was Royce. Before Oliver could answer, the taller boy responded for him. "You don't look ok, I'm going to find Maddy. Stay _right_ here." Royce reluctantly took his hand off his shoulder. "Right here. Don't move, ok?" There was the soft pattering of grass as the boy ran off.

Meanwhile, Oliver had the sick feeling of wanting to vomit. His stomach swirled, and his mind couldn't decide whether to puke or not. Why was he here? Where was he? Who were those weird people? Honestly, he'd rather be at _school_ than _here._ Camp Half-Blood, was it? The name was chilling, what did it mean by half-blood? Like the Half-Blood prince from Harry Potter? Why him? Out of all the possible people in this world, him, Oliver Weber, was chosen to be a guinea pig for someone's funny experiment.

"Heads!"

When you hear the word 'heads' you would normally duck or stand there gaping at the object flying directly to your face. Oliver did the former. He tucked his knees as a flying white and sparkly volleyball passed over his head. There was a cold chill that hit him as he did so. You know that feeling when the sun is high in the air and everything seems perfectly fine until this cold winter breeze brushes past you and shakes you to the core? Yeah, that's what it felt like to Oliver. There was a loud thump, indicating that the ball had fallen. He suspiciously eyed the ball as it rolled gently towards him due to the slope of the hill. After staring like an idiot for two minutes, the ball stopped moving. He could _feel_ some sort of coldness wrap around his leg, as if he'd opened a fridge. Was it coming from the volleyball? Wait, was that _frost?_ The grass around the ball shrunk, and a thin layer of frost coated their tips. It was frost. There was frost around a volleyball. In bright daylight. _Yes, Oliver, continue to stare at_ _the frost like a mental case. You've got the acting down, now all you need is to call them._ Gently, Oliver prodded the volleyball with his shoe. To his despair, it rolled down further towards him.

The cold was undeniable now, and Oliver could feel his ankle begin to freeze up. Like he stuck his foot into a cold room.

 _Revenge._

Again.

It was starting again. Dread had never punched Oliver harder in the face. The sudden dizziness and sickness of the voices starting again threw him off balance. What was going to happen now? He could feel himself pale instantly. What if he fell? If he suddenly were to- Pain , crawling. Oliver had never felt so disgusted by the feeling of dread crawling up his throat. The notion of wanting to vomit only got worse.

 _Revenge._

This hiss, the heaviness of his eyes, it was coming back. What if he- He didn't know what to do- it was just- dread-dread-dread-dread.

"Hey! Sorry about that! Are you alright?"

Second time. The second time the same voice pulled him from his mind. Oliver turned towards the voice. In the distance was a boy who looked around his age, sprinting towards him. The boy shot a pale arm into the air as he saw Oliver's gaze. He waved wildly while Ollie still stood, staring. As he got closer, Oliver _swore_ the air around him dropped a few hundred degrees. The boy was next to him, and Oliver was plunged into an ocean of ice. Was winter always this cold? Did the weather always drop so suddenly? Evidently, the heat and heaviness behind his eyes and in his chest started to ebb away, as if the chill was driving them another direction. It no longer felt like someone twice his weight was on top of him, demanding a piggyback ride. His lungs took in greedy breaths of air, the cold wind acting like mint.

"Oh, haven't seen you around. Are you new here?" The boy declared suddenly, his height making him seem to tower above him. Great, he was just as tall as the Royce guy. Oliver noticed that the dude was wearing shades. In winter, where everything was dim. Shades. Seemingly, those shades also hid the taller boy's eyes from him, acting as a black barrier that no one could lift.

"Hello?" the boy asked, a tiny smirk playing on his face. It was then that Oliver realised that he was gaping like a fish trying to force out an unspoken question. He would've spoken, if he could, but the loud voices of vengeance still left him a bit breathless. It was like he'd gone for an insane and crazy run around the country, if you can count standing still and having a mental breakdown instead running around Long Island, that is. "Well, I'm assuming you're new since you're…acting weirdly." The boy cleared his throat as Oliver clipped his mouth shut. The air fell just as quickly as the temperature, silence settling and getting its unwanted self, comfortable. The tall, raven-haired boy crossed his arms awkwardly, lost on how to start a conversation. The, Oliver noticed that one of his arms was not an arm. Well, it was, but it wasn't at the same time. It was prosthetic. His breath hitched. It wasn't like one of those realistic ones or one of those thin, stick ones, this one looked like it came out of a Hollywood movie. It was webbed with lines acting like joints, connecting each bronze piece intricately like weaved fabric from a professional tailor.

It took an awkward five minutes of staring at the arm before Oliver said something. "Y-Your arm…"

Great. _Stupid Oliver, of course the boy didn't know that he had a bronze, shiny prosthetic arm that goes all the way up his shoulder. Of course not, only you noticed, Oliver, you special guy._ "I-I mean, i-it's…bronze."

Someone hand Oliver an award for conversation starting. He clearly deserved first place. Oliver couldn't help but visibly face palm at himself, the loud smack echoing over the hill.

The boy wasted no time doubling over and laughing his face off like Maddy. Someone, God, whoever was up there on their high perch, save him from the embarrassment. Unlike Maddy, however, the boy halted his laughing almost immediately.

 _Thank you, God._ Oliver sang in his head.

"Wow, good job pointing out the obvious." The boy added bluntly, shaking his head as another smile slipped on his face. His roughly stacked black hair toppled and blew across his eyebrows, before he quickly swiped it back across his head evenly. "Gale Saunders, you?"

Usually when people introduce each other, they shake hands, but Gale didn't do that. His kept his pale, almost white, arm at his side and his other bronze arm pinned against his ribs. He stood a distance from Oliver and stared at him through his sunglasses. Oliver felt exposed. He couldn't read what the taller boy was thinking; he couldn't see the criticism or judgement. For all he knew, Gale could've been staring at something else, the ground, maybe.

"Oliver. Oliver Weber." Then Oliver did something unexpected. He held his arm out. That's it. He did it. Great, now all he needs is for someone to dig his grave for him. There was a limit to how much shock and embarrassment he could stuff into his heart. As much as he wanted to take his arm back, he couldn't. It could be seen as a rejection, or a mistake, and if Gale was one of those people who got offended easily…well…

Said boy stared at Oliver's hand silently, looking at it as if it was a mousetrap, ready to break his fingers off. Then very hesitantly, with his real arm, Gale grabbed Oliver's hand and shook it briefly, before recoiling like a snake. In the mere seconds that their hands met, Oliver could feel an uncomfortable coldness seep up his fingers. It felt like he'd dug his hands into a bucket of ice water that's been sitting in the snow for hours. It stung. To his horror, the tips of his fingers were showing signs of frostnip. He quickly shoved his hand into the pocket of his jeans.

It took Oliver too long to realise that it was _Gale's_ hand that was cold.

He looked over at the taller boy. Gale didn't apologise. His mouth was set in a grim line, as if saying that it was Oliver's fault for attempting contact in the first place.

 _Another mental note: Don't touch people who freeze the air around them._ Common sense in Oliver packed its bag and fled for a vacation. Today of all days though.

"S-Sorry, I-" he began.

"You just came from the Big House, right? You must've met Maddy and Royce then, first impressions?" Apparently, Gale must've seen the apology coming; he was quick to change subjects. He seemed to have forced out Royce's name, for the sake of leaving behind a pleasant air, but his tone didn't sound so happy.

"Maddy? She tried to kill me. Royce seems nice, but I find him a bit intimidating…" Oliver rambled, desperate to fill in the awkward tension. "A bit stifling…"

Gale frowned, though it seemed to be rather playful. "Yes..."

"GALE SAUNDERS!"

"I know exactly how you feel." He sighed melodramatically.

The taller boy walked past him to grab the volleyball, the spots where he treaded turning white with a minimal layer of frost, before shouting in a surprisingly loud voice. "WHAT DO YOU WANT, WOMAN?!"

The same voice answered him. "ONE DOES NOT TAKE FIVE YEARS TO RETRIEVE A VOLLEYBALL!"

"AND ONE DOES NOT SPIKE A VOLLEYBALL WITH THE INTENTION TO KILL!" Gale yelled back, it didn't look like he was used to raising his tone, his voice was almost struggling. He looked ready to dash back the direction he came, but a small figure approaching the horizon stopped him. He sucked in a breath. "It's gonna get hella cold, Ollie." He mumbled. The figure spotted him and began sprinting.

Oliver was _definitely_ not ready for the chill that came next.

If possible, the air dropped even further, to the point where Oliver was visibly shaking and couldn't do anything about it. He wouldn't be surprised if it started snowing right there and then. There was to light bouncing of brown hair, and a small petite looking girl stopped in front of Gale. Her arms looked about as fragile as ice, and possibly as cold as ice too. Oliver noticed, and with no difficulty, the long and big burn mark that spread across her face, almost covering the entire right side. At the burn, her right eye was shut tightly, as if she was having a bad nightmare. Then it occurred to Oliver that her eyelids were stuck together, melded by whatever caused the burn on her face. Her other eye, however was fine, and seemed to glow a deep black, with small, snowflake-like flecks sparkling rapidly like fireworks. It was like watching a show, a movie, a moving background.

A loud huff caught his attention. The girl blew a strand of chocolate hair out of her eye. Almost glaring, she studied him carefully, her pupil carelessly eyeing him up and down, observing him with a harshness Maddy couldn't compare to. "Haven't seen him around." She stated calmly, a sharp ring to her tone.

"Oliver. New kid." Gale explained for him, shaking his head dismissively. The taller boy sucked in a breath of the cool air, casually as if he were drinking water. Meanwhile, Oliver feared that taking any breaths bigger than his shallow ones would end up freezing his insides.

Oliver's gaze flicked between the both of them as they both stared at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to chuck a backflip. Kai's eye flickered, almost acting like a candlelight. But no, it was much more different from that. Her eyes represented some sort of wildness, a flurry of strong snowstorms, unyielding and untouchable. He briefly wondered if Gale had the same eyes. It then hit him, randomly, out of the blue, what if he wore the glasses to hide something? The girl had a scar that couldn't possibly be hidden, but what if Gale had something that he _could_ hide?

Oliver mentally slapped himself. He shouldn't be prying into other people's business. He noticed that the both of them didn't wear the same orange shirt that Royce and Maddy did. Gale had a white leather jacket zipped all the way up to his collarbone, one sleeve ripped at the robotic arm. He looked extremely comfy in his boots and jeans. Kai had slipped on a grey turtleneck, completed with a red jacket and ripped jeans. Compared to Oliver, who was wearing a long sleeved shirt under his t-shirt, they both looked perfectly warm. Yes, let him suffer the consequences of not being prepared for a sudden temperature drop due to the weatherman not announcing so. Apart from the injuries and all, the girl had stands of white hair in her ponytail of brown hair; it didn't look dyed. It was as if the snow itself engraved its way into her somehow.

"Oi, kid, what'cha lookin' at?" The girl snapped, clicking her fingers in a way that he always found annoying. Oliver blinked as she stepped closer to him in an intimidating matter, at the same time causing his teeth to chatter slightly due to the cold air she was giving off. _Cold-room, cold-room,_ his mind teased. "Am I really that beautiful?" Despite the playful statement, she sounded stiff, angry, even, as raging as the storm in her eye. Then again, surprising Oliver for the millionth time today, the girl's glare relaxed and a smile spread wide across her face. Her tensed features relaxed and despite her cool skin, she brought upon the sun in her smile.

"Just kidding." She pulled her tongue and patted his chest playfully, before taking two swift steps back. "Oliver, right? I'm Mikaela Reyes, but you can call me Kai like this idiot over here." She poked her thumb in Gale's direction. She held her hand out for a handshake. Kai's slightly tanned hand was sort of inviting, but the again, she had the same capability of a fridge.

Kai must've seen the hesitation in his eyes, because her nimble and slender fingers found his hand and shook it vigorously. Shocking him, yet again, he found that her hand wasn't very cold, though it wasn't warm either, so unfortunately, there was no cure from the cold around him. He felt like dead meat, sitting in the freezer, unable to rot because of the cold air.

Before any further conversation could be made between the both of them, Gale interrupted, his gaze focused behind them. His features tensed a fraction. "Kai, Chiron's here, you'd better tell him about our 'situation'." He said, emphasising the last word. Oliver looked back at said girl. She visibly paled. "Oh gods, he's going to have our heads." She turned to Oliver and shook his hand firmly once more. "Nice meeting you for like, six minutes. I'll see you again in the afterlife." She flashed him another blinding smile and went to stand next to Gale, swallowing worriedly. Briefly, Oliver wondered what they could've done to be this nervous.

Oliver turned around and went face to face with a flying goat.

"OLIVERRRRR!"

Correction: Basil-goat.

Basil tackled Oliver with a hug that nearly sent him to the ground. He staggered back a few steps while Basil still squeezed the juices out of him. "I THOUGHT YOU DIED!" He wailed, sniffling dramatically.

"No. I did die; I'm a ghost now. Boo." Oliver stated sarcastically. Basil released Oliver almost immediately and began with his annoying habit of shaking the taller boy senseless.

"Don't scare me like that ever again, you hear me? Gods, not only would I have gotten in trouble because you died, but your mother would've given me hell as well! Oh, wait, how could I be so selfish? I mean my-best-friend-nearly-died-and-I'm-worrying-about-how-much-trouble-I'll-be-in. Oh gods I'm such a horrible satyr, Grover, punish me now!" Basil exclaimed, somehow managing to get all of that out in one breath. He threw his hands into the air as if he'd expected angels to descend and take him away, or for lightning to strike down upon him.

"Basil, calm down." A smooth and deep voice stopped Basil from rambling further. Oliver tried to peer past the goat's fuzzy hair to look at Chiron who'd spoken. The older man smiled, his face no longer showing worried wrinkles. "Glad to see that you're alright, Oliver."

Oliver nodded, while his gaze flittered towards three other figures that stood next the great height of the stallion. There was a girl he didn't recognise, but otherwise, Royce and Maddy were both standing next to Chiron. Maddy offered a wave. He waved back slowly. At the corner of his eye, he saw the both of them nod politely to Gale, who nodded back.

Someone cleared her throat. Everyone turned to the source of the sound. Kai awkwardly shrank back at everyone's stares. "I see that…um, you guys are having a happy reunion, and I'm glad for that, really. But, um…" She glanced at Gale for support, who swiftly looked away. "We may have-" she nervously smiled at Chiron's suspicious stare, "-or may not have _accidentally_ ," she stretched out the last word, "turned the volleyball courts into ice rinks." She winked, poked her tongue out and bolted. Gale sighed and ran after her.

"Ice rinks…" Chiron stated blankly, his eyes glassing up, his mind already going through the trouble of having to clean that up. "It's winter…it won't melt…" There and then, Oliver thought he saw Chiron repenting. But the humour looked forced, unnatural, as if he was trying to lighten the mood around them, while trying to keep the sadness away from himself as well. "Basil, go tell Grover the news, we don't want him worrying."

Basil shivered. "I thought I was going to freeze to death." The goat squeaked, rubbing his arms. Nevertheless, he nodded once, and paced off.

"Oliver." The stallion spoke again, his voice turning firmer, more serious. "I have to talk about an important matter with Annabeth, here." He gestured towards the girl he didn't know, "I know you're confused about everything here, but I'll leave you with Royce and Maddy, they'll show you around and hopefully explain everything." He quickly glanced at the both of them. They nodded firmly, yet carefully, as if any sudden movement could bring the girl beside them into ruin. Honestly, the last thing that Oliver wanted to do was hang around Maddy, who almost killed him, but he didn't feel like throwing a fit now, not when the unknown blonde girl looked on the verge of tears. "Sure." He agreed.

Oliver glanced at Annabeth again. Her eyes were a detached gray, tired, sleepy, and yet still struggling to bring her forward. The rims of her eyes were red and puffy, as if she'd been crying a lot, but she still had a lot more tears to spare. Her blonde hair, which must've once been neatly combed, was messily tied into a ponytail, several strands hung on her face, but she didn't sweep them away. They stuck to her begrudgingly, a grim reminder that she needed to pull herself together and clean up.

 _What happened?_ Was the unspoken question.

* * *

 **AN: *** **Rapidly smashes head on table*** **This is o-overdue… *** **Coughs up blood** *** It's killing me slowly… PAH! A WILD ANNABETH APPEARED! What happened, I wonder? ;) Anyways, here are the other two people who I *** **LOUD AND BOISTERIOUS COUGHING** *** …forgot… *MORE COUGHING***

 **Gale Saunders – W. R. Winters**

 **Efrem Nazani – Deadly Animals Are Cute**

 **If your OC did not appear, fear not! Since they'll be presented in other future chapters. Anyways, a few notes:**

 **This entire story will not be told through Oliver's POV only. I'm just using him for now, until we can clearly get introduced to everyone. Unprofessional, I know, but I don't know what else to do.**

 **As you can see, I have accepted far beyond my first decided limit of characters, so not everyone will be doing the quest that's to come, but nevertheless, no one's really going to be left out since I'm going to continuously bring them up, but if your character doesn't get to fully explain their backstory, I apologise in advance.**

 **Anyways, chapter was too long. Imma shut up so you guys can go do whatever you guys do after reading fanfiction. See ya.**


	3. Chapter 3: Mülleimer

Olympian Heroes

 **AN: Have a nice day!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Percy Jackson series.**

* * *

Chapter 3 | Mülleimer

 **Jayce**

The door opened smoothly without restraint, curving inward to reveal the cluster of people inside. Instead of loud explosions of voices and laughter that always made his ears ring, he was hit with a deafening silence. Leaders of cabins sat around the wooden table, faces grim and lips pressed together. Suddenly, his breathing seemed too loud. Every heave of his chest seemed to draw unwanted attention to himself, so he quickly slid over to the first seat he saw, which was a ripped and dusty old office chair. He sat down quickly, and in return the chair creaked loudly, making him wince. A few glanced his way, but their eyes didn't linger on him long. He carefully leaned back, stretching out the groan the chair gave. He sighed. This didn't seem like a meeting amongst high school students, it seemed like a meeting amongst military men. He hated the stiffness of it all. It was like they were all playing a game of whoever-talks-last-wins. It was like they were trying to see who was the toughest, who could deal with the tension and pressure of the room the longest.

Jayce didn't dare shift in his seat, in fear of it creaking loudly again. Why did he have to choose a damn office chair out of all the available stools and plastic seats lying around? He couldn't move, he could only let his eyes flicker around the room in anticipation. He spotted Clarisse, leader of the Ares cabin, plunging her knife into the wooden table before extracting it and repeating it several times over. She had her eyes pinned on the door of the room though, seeming to glare bullets at the next late person to arrive. Thank the gods he didn't look her way went he sneaked in. He saw Drew, her dark hair tucked neatly behind her shoulders as she inspected her nails, as if trying to get everyone to notice that she's painted them a new colour. It's not like anyone brings it up anyways, she paints them a new colour possibly every hour. It was easy to believe that she was head of the Aphrodite cabin.

Next, his eyes latched onto the brothers of the Hermes cabin. They were both strangely quiet, not attempting to wrestle each other into the depths of the Underworld, or biting each other's ears out until one of them started a physical fight. They only sat side by side silently, not once ushering a word to each other. It was strangely eerie, Jayce could hear the quiet shuffling of feet and hands from others in the circle, but no one was talking. The urge to crack and pop his knuckles was almost overwhelming, and he had to firmly place his hands on his knees to stop himself. Why did they have to wait to start the meeting, couldn't they see the internal struggle that he's going through? Technically, he shouldn't even be here. He should've been in his cabin, humming along to songs in his head or playing with his fingers, not here, forced to remain silent and refrained, unable to talk because of this stupid invisible rule that everyone put up, but no. His brother, who he's never seen the face of, has disappeared, and in return, every meeting that Nico Di Angelo has to attend falls on his shoulders. His was pretty sure that Nico wasn't even aware of his existence, since they were never around each other. Whenever his brother was here, which was mostly during the holidays. Efrem and Brandon, the sons of Thanatos, liked to drag him along on quests, so he's never met him properly. Jayce was a new addition to camp-Half Blood, and he keeps hearing about this brother of his that he only knows the name of. Gods, he really didn't like thinking about his brother, and under this stressful atmosphere, it only made him more frustrated. He rubbed his hands together annoyingly, just to have something to do. It was so tempting to move, jump onto that table, and slap common sense into everyone, but that would get him into trouble, and Chiron didn't seem to be in a particularly good mood.

He was so buried in his own thoughts and resentment that he didn't notice that the door opened until it swung closed with a rattle. His head snapped up so quickly that the muscles in his neck burned, he quickly smothered down his curse and inhaled sharply. He went to rub at his nape but someone beat him to it. Cool, slender fingers massaged his neck for a few seconds before they threaded through his hair, ruffling up his already tangled locks. He shoved the hand away before the person could do anything else. Turning around, Jayce met the amused stare of someone he hoped to see, Brandon. Jayce felt the smile slipping on his face before he could control it. "Oh, hey Brandon, you're late." He couldn't help but keep his voice low, since the room was about as quiet as a graveyard.

The shorter boy scoffed and slumped down on a chair next to him, his fall silent. "Yeah right, as if you have the right to say anything. I saw you sneaking in you prick." Brandon declared loudly, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands, a superior stance. He propped his ankle on his knee, a sign that he was already bored. All his little movements seemed to resound around the room, like a sharp sword cutting through the silence, which weighed a ton of bricks. Jayce was rather happy for this change of mood, but all this noise meant that everyone's eyes were on them, and he swore that if Clarisse kept glaring, she could actually pin holes straight through his body. Meanwhile, Brandon seemed unaware of everyone looking. Either that or he didn't care, the latter seemed more likely. Jayce wanted to sink into the cushions of the office chair and never resurface again, but sadly, a feat like that wasn't possible. He licked the piercing on his lip nervously.

Instead of feeding his mind poisonous thoughts, he decided to just roll with the current setting. He gently nudged Brandon with his elbow to catch his attention. The boy rolled his head backwards, blinking lazily, showing that he had his attention.

"Where's Efrem?" he asked, not spotting the small frame of the boy who tended to hang around Brandon like a koala. He also couldn't hear the clicking of fingers, a sound he didn't miss. Sure, he knew that Efrem needed to click his fingers in order to actually not trip over bundles of dirty clothes or chairs and tables, but it got somewhat annoying when he was studying for his tests at two a.m. in the morning and those annoying clicks just surfaced while he was learning math equations.

Brandon huffed and shook the hair out of his eyes, before he began to play with the chair. "Baby bro said that he didn't want to come, and that my voice gets annoying over time." His lips puckered into a pout as he said this. "Is my voice really that annoying?"

Jayce smirked as he heard the irritation in Brandon's statements, like a child whining for a toy he didn't get. "Of course not, you have a sexy baritone." He said, adding a wink for the extra effect.

The other boy scrunched up his face, before scoffing again and facing the front, signalling that conversation was done. Jayce chuckled quietly at his reaction. The meeting still hasn't started yet. Who else were they waiting for? Annabeth wasn't here, and that was reasonable considering the circumstances. Jayce silently counted the number of people present. It was usually only him and Brandon who arrived late; everyone else was usually very punctual.

He felt a rough shove on his elbow. Brandon, for once, respecting the silence of the meeting or only just noticing it, leaned in and whispered in his ear. "Dude, where's Cliff?"

At the mention of his name, on the opposite end of the table, Clarisse slammed her knife into the table, making everyone flinch. She growled menacingly, like a dog. "He's _late_ , beyond late. Do you two know what he's doing at this hour?"

Jayce shook his head vigorously, while Brandon shrugged. She hissed, staring them down. Jayce wiggled uncomfortably under her gaze. Meanwhile, the other boy scoffed. "It's not like Chiron or Grover's here yet anyways, why are you so concerned about him being late?"

Clarisse removed her dagger with a hard tug, the blade scratching against the wooden table loudly. "I would actually want him to be _present_ when Chiron makes his appearance." She grunted, before slipping the knife away.

Brandon leaned forward, challenging her with a glare of his own. "Him being late doesn't actually mean that he's not gonna show up."

Clarisse beared her teeth, and sparks flew. No one was brave enough to step in and stop them from their glare-down. Jayce tapped Brandon's shoulder cautiously, warning him not to take any unnecessary steps further unless if he wanted to loose his fingers.

Just as things were about to get physical, the door smacked open, tugging on its hinges. It slapped against the wall loudly, causing Brandon to fall out of his chair in surprise. "Darling, I'm home~!"

The devil himself twirled in the air and flashed a grin, rows of perfect teeth showing. He bowed, before tapping the door lightly, making it slam shut just as loudly as it had been thrown open. Dust flew in the air and Cliff coughed, waving an arm around. Jayce understood why the door was never creaky despite it being neglected for such long periods of time; this guy was constantly abusing it. He felt a sympathetic connection between himself and the door.

Clarisse was the first one to snap out of the shock, so of course she started nagging. "And just what the Hades do you think you're doing, coming so late and-" Her sentence was cut short as she stared at the thing in his arms, her eyes bludged comically and her jaw hit the dirt covered floor. Jayce was pretty sure he heard someone choking.

Cliff ignored her and grabbed an office chair, similar to Jayce's and rolled it between himself and Brandon, who was struggling to pull himself up. He slumped in it, and Jayce got to see in full detail what he had in his arms. In absolute honesty, he has never wanted to scream before, but he wanted to scream now. There was a loud clatter as Brandon fell again. "What the fuck is _that_?!" the Japanese boy yelled, pointing at the _thing_ accusingly. He was on the floor again and didn't seem to have the strength to stand back up.

Cliff grinned, completely oblivious to the stares he was getting. "Why, a baby of course."

Jayce choked on his own spit and turned around to avoid ruining his eyesight. Unfortunately, looking away did nothing, as the image was already burned into his head. He was pretty sure that one eyeball was missing from that 'baby'. Its clothes were covered in mud, and what seemed to be like bird poo. The head was dented to the side, and its face wasn't even recognisable, since it looked burned off. Maybe it was, this was Cliff, after all.

"That abnormally sharped worm _isn't_ a 'baby'." Brandon stressed, climbing onto his seat with evident struggle. He stupidly stole one glance at it and gagged. Jayce, on the other hand, was making sure to carefully avoid looking at the thing directly. He was scared that, even with its single eye, it could punch holes into his stomach and leave him vomiting for a week.

Cliff looked mildly offended, and he pouted, his cheeks puffing. "How could you call our beautiful child that, how rude." He covered the ears of the 'baby', as if it was living and could hear them all. The new father turned to look at Jayce, eyes pleading. "It's not ugly, right Jayce?"

He found his eyes straying to the baby as Cliff said this, and he quickly made himself to look away before he was forced to bleach his brain. "Of course not, he's…she's…it's," he tried to find the right word in his range of vocabulary, "nice."

Cliff laughed triumphantly, and shoved the baby into Brandon's face, who screamed and leaped from his chair, trying to get as far away from the thing as possible. Jayce could feel the shorter boy's pain even from where he was sitting.

"See, Denny, Red said that the baby's nice." The brown-haired boy, either oblivious to Brandon's horror or just teasing him, edged on his seat to fully display his child. Clarisse did not scare Brandon, yet a mutilated, fake baby doll did.

"It's not real! Get that thing away from me!" the boy screamed, thrashing as Cliff brought it closer.

"It is very much real." The other boy argued. He pressed a button on its stomach and it released a series gross grunting sounds, while its arms flapped around uselessly, grinding on something possibly wedged inside its shoulder blades.

Brandon paled, and his hand flew up to his mouth. "I think I'm gonna puke."

Before the boy sprawled on the ground could projectile vomit everywhere, Jayce took hold of Cliff's arm gently, tugging him away from his victim. "What's his...? Is it a she? What's its name?" He asked softly, as Brandon took the opportunity to slip into his chair, where he will remain seated and hopefully not fall off for the fourth time.

Cliff took a moment to think, scratching his chin. "Hmm, actually, I don't know. Edd said that we have to choose something of a different language, like Japanese or German. He said it sounds cooler that way, but I don't know anyone who speaks those languages."

It finally hit Jayce why he was lugging that toy around. "Oh, is this like, that parenting project at school? You have it with Edd?" Ok, it made sense why the baby was in such bad shape then.

"Yeah, we're taking turns in handling the kid." Cliff nodded.

Brandon interjected, cutting off what the taller boy was going to say next. "I know Japanese, why didn't you ask me?" He crossed his arms.

Cliff rolled his eyes, as if the reason why was obvious. "It's 'cause you'd probably choose something stupid, like maggot, and I'd be calling our child maggot until the end of the assignment."

The Japanese boy frowned, his eyebrows crossing. "No, if its for picking names there's no way in Hades that I'm gonna choose something like that. Why not name him something cool, like Ryuu, which means 'dragon', or-"

"I think I'll call him something German then." Cliff said, cutting him off and ignoring him. He cradled the baby in his arms. "Yeah, something German fits, Jayce, do you happen to know any German?" He frowned when said boy shook his head. "Well, after this meeting, let's find someone who does."

There was a casual 'oops' and the baby fell from Cliff's hands, landing with a loud smack on the ground. "Sorry honey." The boy said, without any emotion, and he picked the child up by its head.

After it was deemed safe that Cliff had fully shut his mouth, Brandon settled comfortably in his chair, exhaling tiredly. Jayce shook his head, and pressed his lips together, waiting for Chiron and Grover to arrive.

Clarisse shot him a glare he wished he'd missed, and folded her arms on the table. Drew snorted, disgusted at their rowdy behaviour and twirled her hair.

Even though he couldn't see it, Jayce could feel the baby boring holes into his head with its single eye. He shivered as he remembered the clatter it made when Cliff pressed a button on its stomach.

Thankfully, to distract his thoughts, he heard hooves clicking on the ground, followed by small, light shuffling and faint sniffling. On cue, the door opened gently, and in stepped Annabeth, her hair pulled up roughly into a ponytail, and her eyes puffy. She has been in that distraught condition all morning. Almost upon instinct, she went to sit next to Clarisse, who patted her shoulder.

If possible, the room just went more silent, and as Chiron and Grover walked in, the silence dropped like anchors, weighed by the heavy atmosphere. Chiron was in his wheelchair, and it hummed along the ground until it reached an empty spot at the head of the table. Grover went to stand beside him.

All amusement and fear from the earlier scene vanished as Jayce looked at everyone's grim faces.

"I know that you're all aware of what's happened this morning." Chiron began, as Grover shuffled uncomfortably. "Jackson is missing."

At his words, Annabeth whimpered, and Clarisse put a hand on her head comfortingly.

"I know that you're all despaired by this, but I don't want anyone to make any unnecessary moves trying to find Percy without my permission." Chiron looked around at everyone one, to make sure that they got the message clearly. "As head of your cabins, I want you to pass this message down to your siblings. I don't want anyone hurting themselves." He made eye contact with Jayce, and he swallowed, trying to move away from his gaze. "Worry not, we _will_ find Percy Jackson soon."

Jayce found himself nodding involuntarily. Satisfied, Chiron placed his hands on the table, showing his authority. "Any questions?"

No hands were raised. Chiron nodded. "Alright, well, Capture The Flag is still on tomorrow, so get ready. And also-"

Before the centaur could continue, there was a loud fart that seemed to also be a mix of obnoxious vomiting sounds coming from Jayce's left. Bewildered, he whipped around and saw Cliff cradling the baby, a sheepish look on his face. "Sorry, you know, babies, they fart, it's natural." He said, before flashing his smile. Brandon groaned and smacked his head on the table. Jayce rolled away gently on his office chair, as if creating a distance from the taller boy would make it seem like they didn't know each other.

"WHY DID YOU EVEN BRING THAT THING HERE?" Brandon yelled, attempting to smack the thing away from his hands.

"Well, I'm taking care of it so it makes sense to." Cliff quipped, as he dodged around Brandon's flailing hands.

"YOU COULD HAVE JUST LEFT IT AT HOME!"

"What kind of parent would leave their newborn baby at home?"

"WHAT KIND OF PARENT DROPS THEIR BABY THEN PICKS IT UP BY ITS HEAD?!"

There was a loud thump, and both of them recoiled. Clarisse had slammed her hands on the table for what seemed like the hundredth time. " _Boys."_ Chiron stressed, rubbing at his head. "Have this argument _after_ the meeting." They both silenced, snapping their lips shut.

"As I was saying," Chiron began again, clearing his throat, "stay safe. If there is any news it will be discussed immediately, you are all dismissed."

Brandon was first to stand, and he practically ran out of the room. Everyone else got out in a neat and orderly fashion, Jayce being second to leave, then Cliff. Before leaving though, Jayce heard Drew mutter in a dark tone. "Geez, those boys are so disrespectful, they don't care about Percy at all."

It didn't matter what others thought of him. He was just glad to be out of the heavy and suffocating atmosphere. Once they were in the open air, Cliff leaped in joy and his baby nearly spilled out of his arms. "Whoop! Freedom!"

"Freedom at the expense of being scolded later." Brandon grumbled, before shoving his hands into his pockets. "What now?"

Jayce shrugged, and considered heading towards his cabin, where he was almost sure that his brother wouldn't be present at. But of course, Cliff was here, and his train of thought would be demolished within seconds.

"I say we meet the new kid, let's welcome him, and after that we can look for my husband." The taller boy said, right on cue.

Brandon scrunched his nose in disgust. "Why Edd, out of all people. I have no issues with you being gay or whatever-"

"Bisexual." Cliff corrected, waving a finger in the air.

"Yeah, that, but Edd is a…special case." Brandon trailed off, frowning at whatever memory his mind was lapsing through.

"What are you talking about? He's an amazing kid." Cliff said, before skipping down the hill, baby hanging dangerously on the nook of his elbow.

"I feel sorry for that kid now…" Brandon began, before he shuffled after him. When Jayce didn't follow, he whipped around.

"There is no way in Hades that you're leaving me with that moron." Brandon deadpanned.

* * *

If killing were legal, Cliff would be dead by now.

He'd dragged them around the campus possibly four times, in hopes of finding his 'husband' and the new kid. Brandon looked just about ready to pounce on the taller boy and rip his throat out. They walked and ran for possibly three hours, Cliff making cooing noises and soft whispers, saying ridiculous things like 'honey, dear~' or 'hubby, where are you~?'

If Cliff spoke another word, Jayce was going to smack him right across his face. Hearing one of your best friends scream for their husband by using pet names for hours on end without stop is enough to make you want to rip all your hair out, no matter how tolerable your personality is. Cliff had his ears tucked behind headphones right now, and Jayce couldn't have been more jealous. He wanted music, something to sooth his ears and muscles after such a tiring day.

"YOU CRAZY FUCK, IT'S NIGHT NOW! STOP CALLING FOR EDD!" Brandon screamed, having already snapped. He let out a yawp and lunged at Cliff, tackling him to the ground, as if that would knock common sense into him. Cliff, in vain, tried to keep his baby out of harm.

Jayce sighed, not bothered to stop his friends from giving each other black eyes, but he relented, seeing that they could be at it for hours.

It didn't take much effort for Jayce to pull Brandon off Cliff, since the shorter boy no longer hand any energy left. "Calm down, Brandon. Cliff, we should be heading for the dining pavilion now, I think you'll find Edd there." Jayce reasoned, while holding up the deflated boy by his upper arms, as he gave up trying to even stand.

Cliff glanced at the sky, as if unconvinced that it was really night, and looked down with a sigh. "Yeah, I guess we should. It was fun looking for him though, right?"

Jayce shot him a poisonous glare. The other boy got the message quickly. "Alright, off we go!" He pointed to the central area of the campus, and marched towards it, arms by his side.

With an agitated groan, Brandon heaved himself up, stumbling a few steps before he dragged on Jayce's shoulder, supporting himself as they shuffled after Cliff, who still had more than enough energy.

After a while, it got awkward trying to support Brandon, since he was shorter than him, so he resorted to carrying the boy on his back. "Why are we even friends with him?" the boy complained as he flailed his legs in annoyance. Jayce shifted uneasily and almost dropped Brandon. "Because we just are." He replied back, attempting to steady the both of them.

"I can hear you idiots, you know that?" Cliff said, while wrapping his arms around the baby's legs, which was now sitting on his head. "Oh sorry, Papa said a bad word, don't listen to him, or to Uncle Denny, ok? Sorry."

"I don't want to be that little shit's uncle." Brandon grunted.

"Stop cursing in front of the baby!"

"It's NOT REAL!"

Jayce shuddered as Brandon screamed too loudly. The only person that made the shorter loose his chill this easily was Cliff, and he knew that Brandon hated him for that reason. Yet, it was always Cliff, whom Brandon went to for advice. He was the person most trusted to him, after Jayce. It was a very stable love-hate relationship.

As the light of the dining pavilion drew close, and the noise was evident from afar, Jayce let go of Brandon, and Cliff began running. "Eddy!" He shouted, to catch the attention of a passer-by. Brandon grumbled and brushed off his pants. "Fuck, the both of them are together. Kill me now."

If he could, Jayce could slip away now. He wouldn't have to deal with two hyperactive idiots who could only scream, jump, and make his small headache turn into a migraine. Unfortunately, he couldn't, since he'd be leaving Brandon alone to deal with them. Brandon looked too exhausted to do anything, much less run.

As if heading towards their deaths, the both of them slowly stalked closer to the pavilion, where many people were already waiting, and where Edd and Cliff were standing.

"My son!" Edd cried, as he swooped the child out of Cliff's held out arms. "What a beautiful baby you are! I've missed you!" Jayce didn't know how the both of them found that baby to be 'beautiful' but he kept his comment to himself. Brandon wasn't in the right mind to start a fight, so he just walked over to his table and slumped on the edge, cracking his neck before his hands slumped to his sides uselessly. Jayce went to stand next to the parents.

They were cooing over the baby, stroking its head and fiddling with its clothes, like actual parents. That knowledge was scary. Jayce interrupted them in the middle of their tender care, before their cooing could permanently damage his eardrums. "How's parenting so far, Edd?" He asked to be polite, even though he had absolutely no interest in the demon child currently in his hands.

Said child of Hermes stopped, and hooked his arm around Jayce's neck. "It works wonders, Jayce." He held out his hand to the sky. "I think we're doing good. We've only scratched him a little, but he's a tough kid, got those genes from the both of us!"

Having your child covered in animal shit and punctured with a dent to its head didn't sustain as 'scratches' but Jayce nodded anyways. "How did he get those scratches?"

Cliff answered this time. "Well, this one time, where I was cooking, I accidently left baby near the stove, so as I was grabbing a pan, baby burnt his poor head off."

Brandon perked up from where he was sitting. "WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU PUT A BABY NEXT TO A STOVE ANYWAYS?"

Edd put a finger to his own mouth, shushing, silencing him from complaining further. "At least Cliff leant to not do that again, he's wiser now, right?"

Said boy nodded vigorously, brown hair flying. "Yes! Edd, you're the best husband ever!"

Edd's hand flew to his cheek, as he waved the compliment away, flustered. "Oh, no, you are!"

Jayce honestly couldn't tell if they were both pretending anymore. Brandon groaned and smacked his head on the table, as he lay on it without any once of soul left in his body.

Jayce went to sit at his table, which was right across from Brandon's. He watched as the shorter boy's mop of dark hair felt to the table, looking just as tired as how he probably felt. Suddenly, a body knocked into him, nearly pushing him off his seat. A hand felt at his face, gently rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Brandon?"

The tone was so innocent, so heart lifting, but the bearer of it was not as nice. "Not Brandon, it's Jayce. Please stop touching my hair." He said, as the boy had started running his fingers through his hair.

Gently, he grabbed Efrem's wrists and pulled them off his head, directing his arms to the direction where his brother's table was, while Brandon still had his head buried in his arms, energy drained. Almost like a newborn trying to walk, Efrem made his way over to the table, not stopping to apologise if he's stepped on anyone's feet. Jayce thinks he does that on purpose, since he's seen Efrem manoeuvre around with more elegance than gymnasts.

He propped his head on his hand as he watched the smaller boy slap the back of Brandon's head and pull on his ears tightly, not letting go until his brother finally gave a cry of pain and told him to stop.

After (painfully) confirming that, yes, it was Brandon, Efrem sat across him, showing Jayce only his back and specks of Brandon's hair.

Bored out of his mind, Jayce stifled a yawn and looked around the pavilion. Annabeth's siblings were hustled around her as they tried to comfort her. Meanwhile, Edd and Cliff were making their presence known by sharing a teary goodbye as they parted ways, the former going to the Hermes table and the latter making his lonely path down towards the Bia table. Immediately as Edd sat down though, his siblings swarmed him and they all started chatting nonchalantly, as if the exchange never happened. Jayce rolled his eyes and watched as the last of the people make their way towards their tables. As soon as everyone was settled, food arrived, and Jayce carried his steak over to the offerings, cutting it clean in half easily and tossing it to the fire. He wished his father well in the Underworld, and made his way back to the table, dodging past people as they too walked towards the fire.

* * *

After eating, Jayce met up with Brandon and Efrem, listening silently as they argued about potatoes. Suddenly, the power couple join in, Edd and Cliff being as loud as they could get without completely destroying their vocal cords. He could feel a headache sprouting like an unwanted weed on his head as the four suddenly got into a heated argument, as they always did when around each other. These four were the reason why Jayce matured way too quickly.

His father must've been looking after him today because thank the gods Maddy and Royce made their way over, dragging along a boy he's never seen before. As soon as the both of them were close enough, the other four adolescents silenced quickly, since they last time they messed around those two, they ended up with a very, very angry child of Apollo.

"Maddy! Bae! What's up?" Edd said, smiling brightly. Surprisingly, Cliff did not comment on that.

Maddy rolled her eyes and shook the kid whom she was holding tightly by the elbow. Jayce feared that he was going to loose circulation in his arm. Edd seemed to recognise him and smiled even wider, if possible. "Oh hey Ollie, is Maddy giving you a tour?"

The boy swallowed and nodded subtly, but everything in his eyes screamed otherwise. "She's dragging me around and forcing me to-"

His sentence ended abruptly as Maddy bent his arm back to an impossible position. Royce panicked and forced her to calm down, eventually prying the other boy's arm out of her grip and patting her shoulder gently. Everyone was unfazed by everything going on. It was a normal occurrence after all. Jayce was ashamed to know that he was used to these kinds of things happening.

"Oh yeah, Oliver, you know German, right?" Before anyone could warn him, Edd grabbed the child from Cliff, which remained hidden in his arms until now and held it in front of him, as if he was proudly showing of a trophy. Brandon screamed and fell to the ground, burying his head in his arms. Efrem only smirked and crouched down next to him, unable to see the doll, as he patted his brother's back.

Maddy choked on seemingly nothing, stepping backwards rapidly as if someone was after her with a knife. Royce tried to remain polite, but the thing was far too hideous for someone with pure eyes like him, so he turned around and excused himself with a cough. Unfortunately, the boy that Jayce didn't know was forced to keep staring, a slight grimace on his face, since Edd had directed a question at him.

"Yes, why…?" the boy questioned, somehow keeping headstrong. Jayce had to keep him credit for that. If he were in that position, he'd grab a baseball bat and smack the hideous thing to the other side of the world.

Edd grinned, seeing nothing wrong with everyone's reactions. It was almost like they were praising the baby rather than saving their eyes from a future encounter with bleach. Jayce wondered if Edd was still sane after all this time spent in camp. "I was wondering if you could give a name for," he turned around to Cliff and flashed him a toothy grin, "our child in German."

Somewhere, far, far away, Maddy screamed. "THAT THING IS A BABY?!" Royce at this point was sitting on the ground and was probably being philosophical or going over his life choices as he stared blankly at the grass.

Hastily, Oliver gave an answer, the word rolling off his tongue fluidly. "Mülleimer?" He offered, before he finally looked at his soiled shoes. The boy deserved a pat on the back, so Jayce walked over and gave him one. He managed to look away as soon as he knew what was happening, so his eyes weren't in need of medical care unlike the other unfortunate victims.

"Mülleimer! Wow that sounds great! Doesn't it, Cliff?" Edd asked, and held the baby between them both. Cliff nodded albeit too eagerly, making it seem as if his head was going to snap off any second.

"YOU MONSTERS!" Maddy shouted from a distance. She's gone so far from them that she was no longer in sight, but she was still loud enough for them to all hear.

Edd ignored her and pressed its stomach, making it do the gurgling sound again. Unfortunately, Jayce couldn't defend himself and Efrem didn't see it coming, so while he staggered and put his hands to his ears, the other boy gave a loud yell and joined his brother in a miserable heap on the floor.

Edd and Cliff could've very well killed six people, but they didn't seem to notice, and they continued fawning over the baby while everyone else around them writhed in agony.

Suddenly, Edd stopped cooing with an annoying tone and waved somewhere behind Cliff. "Hey Kai! Gale!" He waved them over wildly. Jayce saw Gale groan in frustration, and Kai roll her eyes, but nevertheless they both made their way over. The air instantly turned colder as they neared, but everyone's learned to deal with it. As soon as they were in clean view, Gale smirked at everyone on the ground, unaware of the reason why they looked like they were dying. Kai only raised a brow as she made eye contact with Jayce. He tried to open his mouth and talk, but he couldn't. He could only watch in silent horror as Edd asked Kai if she wanted to see something cute. Kai was still looking over at Jayce, and he managed to shake his head vigorously, eyes wide.

However, he wasn't fast enough to warn them, and Edd pulled out the monstrosity that killed six people. "Meet Mülleimer!" He said, shoving the thing in her face. Cliff clapped with joy and smiled widely. Silence settled over them like a blanket, and this very day, Edd has managed to destroy eight people's lives. The ugliness of the thing was even enough to freeze even Gale (ha, puns, Jayce was appalled at the fact that he could still think straight), and Kai started crying, sobbing, in fact.

Edd got the wrong idea out of her reaction. "I know right? He's so precious."

"MY EYE!"

"I know, you must be feeling blessed."

"HELP ME!"

"Yes, the sheer beauty of Mülleimer is enough to render even Gale silent. I'm so proud of our accomplishments, Cliff."

* * *

 **AN: I think I missed a few things…I haven't read the series in a while so if I'm missing out some sort of schedule please tell me :) And, as you can or can't tell, I'm not from the USA so if I get something wrong, like spell Mum instead of Mom I'm sorry ;;;  
**

 **Oh, I remember the campfire songs, but that's going to be in the next chapter. Also, if you want to know what the name of the baby means, slap it on Google Translate or ask me personally.**


	4. Chapter 4: The fire is PURPLE HELP!

Olympian Heroes

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Percy Jackson series.**

 **AN: DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE PAIN I'M IN? I UPLOAD MY CHAPTERS WHICH I PUT MY BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS INTO (I MAY BE EXAGGERATING) AND AFTER ONE DAY, IT MOVES BACK LIKE 5 PAGES! WHY DO SO MANY PEOPLE UPLOAD STORIES ON THIS FANDOM? WHY IS EVERYONE SO CREATIVE IN THIS FANDOM? HOW AM I MEANT TO GET PROMOTION IF I'M COMPETING AGAINST THIS MANY PEOPLE?**

 **And I am downright so mad at myself. I forgot two OCs! I AM FOUR CHAPTERS IN AND I HAVEN'T NOTICED THAT I AM MISSING TWO CHARACTERS FROM THE PEOPLE I'VE LISTED. I AM SO SORRY!**

 **Julienne Barrande – PokeSyoc**

 **Bohai Korhonen – someone who wishes to stay anonymous**

 **I could've sworn I mentioned you guys, but apparently not :/ anyhow, I'm extremely sorry FORGIVE ME FOR I HAVE SINNED.**

 **I also literally sat around for three hours wondering who's POV I should write the chapter from…I settled for Ollie. Of course it doesn't mean that I'm specialising him, or being bias towards him, it's just the plot I have in mind requires a lot of things done from his POV. SO I ALSO DECIDED TO SWITCH POVs! I love you guys, and I love the people who still read this story even though they haven't got any OCs submitted, like seriously, thanks.**

* * *

Chapter 4 | The fire isn't red, it's PURPLE HELP

 **Oliver**

As soon as the spoon dropped from his hand, Maddy was over and latching onto his elbow like how a python traps its victim. His elbow banged on the table, causing few to drop their spoons, and his feet awkwardly kicked others as half his body was pulled relentlessly. Across the table, Edd, an odd boy of Hermes with big, blue, charming eyes and a smirk that never meant anything good, laughed, but didn't get up to move the blonde. In fact, no one at the table did. He was also placed at this table against his will, since no one knew his 'godly-parent'.

It was hard to believe that these people were his supposed 'siblings' (for now). All of them had this mysterious, dangerous glint in their eyes, and very quick fingers that seemed to have minds of their own, especially Edd. Every movement he made seemed to serve a purpose, such as the way his fork hit the plate, or the way he 'accidentally' bumped his elbow into someone. It was like a big gambling game, and Edd was one of those players with unbreakable poker faces and smooth lying tactics.

Before Oliver had time to say bye, or wipe his mouth clean, he was ripped off his seat and dragged away like unwanted luggage. Again, he had no idea how such a slim looking girl like Madeline had strength equivalent to a gorilla. She was quickly making her way towards a table of scary, tough looking kids. All of them were tall, loud, and hella buff. He spotted Royce, sitting and laughing at something someone said, and he surprisingly fitted in despite his soft personality and friendly voice. Suddenly, his almond eyes strayed towards their direction, and he got up when Maddy gave him a small nod. Why didn't she drag him around like how she did to Oliver? It wasn't like he was going to run anywhere, and he could still very much support himself despite her dragging him around the campus several times and doing at least six relays over the entire area. Even though she's taken him many acres, he's only been to the strawberry field and training areas. Yes, she made them walk around the strawberry field five times. He swore that those two worked out daily; they didn't even seem the tiniest bit exhausted after all that. It was like she was forcing him to exercise, under the guise of 'touring him around'. Oliver was pretty sure that he didn't have to remember the shade of the strawberries, or how much light was reflected on them.

There were loud whoops and wolf whistles as Royce left the table, and his siblings thumped him on the back or smacked the back of his head. If Oliver were in the position, he'd drown in the limbs while dying from concussions. Royce shot them all a sheepish smile. "We're just showing him around, nothing else." He said. One guy didn't get the idea, and continued hollering his lungs off. Royce shot him a glare that Oliver couldn't see from his angle, and the entire table shut up. The guy sat down slowly, laughing nervously. Madeline fidgeted worriedly.

Royce hopped over the long legs spread across the floor and the sharp elbows poking out of the side of his table as he made his way over, a big grin on his face. He was also assisting in the 'touring', and Oliver felt bad that he had to be dragged out of dinner so early just to watch them walk more laps at the strawberry field.

He joined them with a wave and toothy grin, eyes turning into pleasant crescents as he threw his full grin on display.

Never mind feeling bad, Royce looked genuinely happy.

"So what are we doing to torture him now?" He asked.

It took Oliver a while to realize that the taller boy was referring to him.

"Wait, what?" He asked, and he could feel his eyes widen involuntarily.

Royce looked at him, as if his reaction was unusual and surprising to him. "Bright Eye's been forcing you to do intense fitness this whole time, she wasn't giving you a tour…I thought that was obvious." He said, gesturing to Madeline who didn't look the least bit guilty at all. "I'm amazed that you haven't complained yet. Good job, Scrappy."

Oliver could only let his jaw hang and his expression slacken. So his superstitions were right. He glanced at Maddy who simply shrugged.

"Wait, this whole time-"

Maddy cut him off with a wave of her hand. "I showed you the fields and the training area, so technically I gave you a tour. You have no right to complain." She said, with strict authority, before pulling him off again, this time, as his heels dragged along the ground.

"Wait, I don't agree to this! Don't I get some free speech here?" Oliver allowed himself to protest, as Maddy gave his arm a hard tug.

Maddy opened her mouth to protest, but Oliver saw her gaze flicker to the right, for the shortest of seconds. "Crap, they're here, let's just walk past and hope they don't notice us." She ushered, voice low. Royce glanced over at the direction she looked at and shrugged, smiling.

"They look like they're arguing, it doesn't seem like they'll notice us anyways." He reasoned. Still, it didn't stop Maddy from putting out finger guns and tiptoeing across the pavilion, gaze sharp and ready, as she suddenly chucked a flip and landed smoothly on the grass, softly and silently.

Royce, for the first time since Oliver's met him, sighed, though it seemed to be out of amusement, and trailed after her, casually stepping on the cleanly cut grass. Oliver hopped down from the pavilion flooring and landed with a loud thump next to the taller boy. Madeline shushed him loudly, crouching down in the shadows. Oliver shot her a look that signified that she was being louder than he was, but she didn't get it and instead dragged him along by his elbow again, slowly moving down a hill.

It was when they reached the bottom that she suddenly started bolting. Oliver almost tripped again at the sudden change in speed, but Royce quickly grabbed his wrist and started running alongside them. Maddy noticed the exchange and was clearly not happy, "geez, Oliver. Can you go anywhere without tripping over air?" She hissed.

Oliver who was pissed and not in the mood to take the insults with a blissfully blank mind anymore, snapped back at her, "if you stopped stampeding everywhere like a fucking elephant, then maybe, yeah."

Suddenly, his head was pounding, and his face was growing hot. Maddy's glare didn't make him back off unlike other times. He could feel the back of his neck prickling with an uncomfortable heat, almost like something was leeching onto his neck, and he didn't want it there. Maddy, with an audible huff, took him by the elbow and started dragging him to the group that they tried to avoid. Oliver thought he spotted Edd in the gang, but he didn't have the mind to check. He was trying to pry himself out of her grip, and despite his elbow turning white from the lack of blood reaching there, he still felt his arms heating, blood pumping, heart racing, fire coursing through his veins. Before he could act on his impulses, a voice cut through his haze, and his sudden flare seemed to scamper away, as if afraid of showing itself in front of so many people.

"Maddy! Bae! What's up?" Edd waved them over, hand flying.

Maddy still didn't loosen her grip, instead, her mouth straightened into a firm line, and she stomped over, shaking him wildly, as if accusing him of committing a crime. With unspoken words seeming to hang from her mouth, she directed her glare towards the jumping person instead. Oliver wondered how he and Madeline had managed to get on such bad terms so quickly.

"Oh, hey Ollie! Is Maddy giving you a tour?" he shouted, smiling brightly as he spotted him. Oliver couldn't find it in him to return the gesture, so he nodded instead, hoping that Edd wouldn't point out his inner turmoil. "She's dragging me around and forcing me to-"

Before his sentence could be completed, the wind was knocked out of him as Maddy grabbed his wrist and snapped his arm up behind his back. There was a worried noise from Royce, and he was over and coaxing Maddy into letting go of his arm before it broke. Reluctantly, Maddy released him, and Oliver felt something popping back into place. She didn't dislocate his shoulder, did she?

Royce walked over, and put a hand on his shoulder comfortably. "Are you okay?" He asked silently. Oliver wasn't sure if he was asking if his arm was alright, or if the earlier fiasco was safely tucked in his pocket. He nodded anyways. "Oh, Oliver," his head snapped up at the call of his name, he scanned past the new faces and looked at Edd, "you know German, right?"

Before Oliver could add in any inquiries, Edd fished out something evil, disgusting, and vile.

Thank god the 'baby' was out of the way when they decided to gather around for quick introductions. It was hidden behind the arms of Cliff, whose name Oliver just learnt. He was a hyper dude with boyish eye crinkles that came out each time he smiled. He had heavy-looking, red headphones wrapped around his neck like a substitute for a scarf. Already five minutes into meeting him, Oliver noticed a habit of him nodding his head slightly to music no one else but him heard when no one was talking. What Oliver found odd were his greyish, almost silver eyes that reflected the moon every time he laughed, or nodded rapidly, his brown hair flying with him when he did.

"Anyways, capture the flag is tomorrow, right? We gotta plan." Maddy said suddenly, glancing over at Kai, seeking permission. The girl nodded, pink lips set in a thin line, and she stood, her earlier crying feat over and forgotten just like that.

Something in Cliff's sliver eyes glinted. "Discussing plans in front of the enemy, huh?" he teased, tongue flickering over his lips.

Maddy rolled her eyes, "as if you're gonna win anyways, we've got this in the bag," she said confidently, hands reaching to pull Oliver, but realising that she didn't know who his parent was yet.

"Do you have any idea on who it might be?" she asked.

Oliver shook his head.

"A clue? A hint? A tiny lead?"

Oliver shook his head again.

Suddenly, Madeline screamed, running her hands through her long locks of blonde hair. "Why are you so frustrating? Not only do I have to drag you around the place, I don't know who your parent is so I don't know if I can take you on our team? What if you suddenly find out who your parent is in the middle of battle and that cabin happens to be on the other team?" she ran a hand down her face, "and can't you just give me a proper answer? You're always doing this," she nodded her head meekly, "or this," she shook her head wildly, hair flying, "and it drives me insane!"

Instead of Royce coming to the rescue this time, it was Jayce, the boy who introduced himself very quietly. "Maddy, I think you're going off topic here, why don't we discuss everything after the campfire?" he said, holding out his hands comfortingly, but not quite touching her. His eyes stood out a lot, even in the dark, the right one being a sharp shade of cerulean and the other such a smooth green it looked ceramic. The two colours reminded Oliver of the sea, and it was exactly like Jayce carried the burden of the entire ocean with him, since every movement he did seemed careful and calculative. The gears in his mind seemed to buzz with energy before he did anything, unlike Cliff, who seemed to say whatever that came to his mind. His teeth worried at the piercing on his lip when Maddy didn't reply.

"Fine," she breathed out, when the silence escalated to something stifling.

Oliver saw a small smile work its way up to Jayce's mouth, and the first thing he thought was 'uh oh.' The boy had dimples on the sides of his cheek, giving him a childish tint, and he had two sharp canines on the side, showing how big his smile was, despite him not grinning to his fullest extent. His teeth were white and clashed against his dark clothes, highlighting his face. Oh boy. Jayce pulls off the whole super-model thing without even trying, and this was coming from the straightest of straight dudes, Oliver.

Surprisingly, Maddy did not react the way he expected her to, by turning into a blushing mess, and instead brushed her clothes, sighing heavily. "Right, I was being irrational, let's go."

Without another word, she turned on her heel with enough flare to put runway-models to shame.

There was a collective sigh from the group that did not include Oliver, and slowly everyone stretched or dusted dirt from their clothes that wasn't there.

A cold finger tapped his shoulder, and Oliver slowly turned around, not ready at all to see his disappointed face.

Instead of a frowning Royce, Oliver was met with a smiling Royce, cheeks lifted as he grinned.

The confusion must've been obvious on his face, for the taller boy laughed, and pulled him by his elbow, "let's go."

* * *

 **Neriah**

Neriah let her leg bounce up and down as she stared distantly at the fire. People often called her out on it as a nervous tick, but it wasn't. She did it when she was bored, sleepy, when she was eating. She tended to shake whatever chair she was sitting on, and it was particularly funny when it was a wobbly one, causing the people around her to writhe with mild annoyance at the same repetitive sound of the chair smacking the ground.

She rested her hand on her cheek, feeling uncharacteristically tired. People around her started surrounding the fire, their chattering loud and obnoxious, Neriah, for once, not screaming and shouting along with them. Her hair was sticking uncomfortably to her face, beaded with sweat and poking her eyes. She was staring at the world with half-lidded eyes, through the barrier of her eyelashes. Being tired was a curse. She hated that feeling of sagginess, when your feet have been reduced to nothing but jelly and bending your knees seem to bring along a likelihood of tripping and falling on your face. She literally had no energy to even lift her hand to brush her hair away and could only hope that blinking would somehow magically push the irritation away from her eyes. Suddenly, the idea of challenging her siblings to a race didn't seem so ingenious anymore.

She sucked in a deep breath of sharply, pretended that the air hadn't scraped her throat, and willed the ache in her shoulders to go away. She downed a whole bottle of water during dinner, but apparently she needed a whole carton to suffice for her throat. She could've gotten more if all her siblings hadn't started a fight for the last bottle. They were all sweaty, gross, and parched to the point of borderline dehydration. She watched as two particularly rowdy boys shoved each other while laughing breathlessly, before things started getting serious and it quickly turned into a tickle fight.

Neriah sighed. Being tired really sucked. Even the sight of people laughing and enjoying themselves didn't get her blood pumping as it would normally. Under usual circumstances, she would've joined in, and make yet more friends on this campus, which seemed to hold an endless stream of kids.

She was about to go back to staring aimlessly at the fire, something about it attracted her, the way the flames roared as the spirits of the demigods raised, when a slender girl slipped into her view, how she managed to go unnoticed until now, Neriah had no idea. She literally shone against the sea of people busy finding seats. It also took too long for Neriah to realise that she knew this girl, and that she was making her way over to her.

Neriah smiled slightly at the annoyed expression on Emerald's face (gods she was too tired to even _smile_ ) and kept her gaze on the taller girl as she picked her way past the crowd delicately, as if touching them would fracture her wrist somehow, and slumped next the her without a word, only huffing as she folded her legs. Neriah didn't say anything; she knew what was coming all too well.

"He did it again!" Emmy suddenly screeched, slamming her fists down on the grass. The shorter girl didn't say anything, and hummed slowly, ignored the gazes that were turning towards them. The wind blew gently at her bangs, and Neriah relished the feeling of the coolness that was like an icepack, before her friend started screaming heatedly again.

"Why does he think it's funny? It's clearly not!" Emmy whipped her head towards Neriah, hair flipping and almost smacking her in the face. "Do you think it's funny when someone dumps water on you? Do you, Nerry? Because I sure don't and I have no idea why he does!" The girl's eyes flared with dangerous vigour, flashing several colours Neriah still couldn't pick up on despite knowing her since she's stepped foot on campus.

She was almost too tired to bother replying, but forced the words out of her throat, just to humor her friend, lips barely moving, "and who is this dude, again?" she asked, watching with listlessness as the taller girl started picking at threads of her black sweater, which was oversized and only allowed her fingers to poke through. Her thin, untouched fingers with nails just the perfect shade of pink. Emmy rarely, if never, put on nail polish.

Neriah had to lean back slightly when the other girl broke into a loud screaming fit, "Edd! That damned Hermes kid!" she flailed her arms and smacked the ground again frustration making her face scrunch up. She reminded her of a toddler, who had their toy snatched off their cute little fingers. At the words _'damned Hermes'_ , several angry eyes flickered over to glare at the both of them. Like some nervous tick, Neriah stopped leaning on her palm and sat cross-legged, and started twirling long strands of grass around and ripping them violently, avoiding the gaze of nearly half the campus, all the while trying to give advice to her friend, "well, maybe if you stop hitting on all his victims, he'd stop annoying you," she offered.

Emmy looked at her as if she was growing mushrooms out of her head. "Oh yeah, because he's a walking glory of hotness. No fucking way,"- Neriah cringed at the sound of such an unpleasant word escaping the mouth of someone who looked to be made of cotton candy – "he has the appeal of a pregnant cow. Also, how am I meant to know who he flirts with? Looking at him for longer than two seconds makes my head ache," she grumbled, biting on her perfectly shaped nails. Neriah was about to tell her to stop, since she would only end up complaining about it again later, but Emmy shushed her loudly before she could say anything, and clamped a hand over her mouth. Or tried to. Neriah reacted out of instinct and ducked quickly and when Emmy made another grab at her, she involuntarily dodged to the side again. They both turned into a flailing mess and Emmy looked borderline murderous.

Finally, Neriah got the point and clamped her hand over her down mouth. In a hushed, irritated whisper, Emmy tilted her head across from them, gesturing at something. "Look, it's him," she said, voice almost a growl, "the devil, and he's with Cliff." Neriah rolled her eyes but glanced over anyways, and sure enough, both mentioned boys were hugging comfortably and laughing at a shared joke between them. Her mind immediately flickered towards a certain Asian boy who always stood out. If he were to chance upon such a scene…she turned to Emmy, who seemed to be too focused on murdering Edd mentally. "I never knew they were this close -hey Em, listen to me- Isn't Cliff dating Bohai or something?"

Emerald struggled visibly to tear her eyes away from Edd, hatred and murderous intent leaking out. She still seemed too out of it to completely grasp the question thrown at her, so she stared blankly at the ground to get her bearings together. Then she hopped off the grass lightly, light bulb going off over her head. "Nah, they hate each other's guts, it's not even one of those 'I act like I hate you but secretly love you and I can't admit that because I'm embarrassed' things, they actually really hate each other." She admitted, shrugging. Edd threw his head back as he started laughing, and shoved something into Cliff's hands.

"What is that?" Neriah questioned, trying to get a view of the object in Cliff's arms as the boys separated.

Immediately, Emmy had gone from covering her mouth to wrapping every fibre of her being around Neriah's head, obscuring her view. "Don't look at that thing, Edd showed it to Kai and she ended up crying non-stop for like, ten minutes," she said, voice wary. "If it's managed to make Kai cry, I don't want to see it."

Neriah was going to ask how she knew this, but decided against it, since Emmy would reply with a smirk and the ever so popular phrase, 'I have connections'.

Suddenly, as if sensing both of their discomfort, Edd glanced over at them, and by the way they were positioned, both of them staring at him directly, there was no doubt he would get the wrong idea; that they were both gossiping (good things, it's always the compliments that makes a man's heart race) about him. Judging by the way he smirked and waved at them, there was no doubt Neriah's intuition was right.

"Shit, he just looked our way, right? Don't tell me he looked our way, I must be seeing things, right, Nerry?" Emmy said, voice wavering on the edge of panic. When the shorter girl couldn't force and answer out of her mouth, for her tongue had dried up in dread, Emmy proceeded to have what people call a 'meltdown'.

"Oh fuck he's going to blackmail me tomorrow. Oh shit, fuck." She then started listing off probably every single curse word that existed in the English vocabulary. Neriah tried not to wince every time a word slipped through her mouth, and, being a good friend, sacrificing other people in return for her buds was a regular habit of hers. She searched wildly for the familiar mop of dark red hair. Finally, she spotted her, twirling said hair, absent-mindedly listening to her siblings as they sat around the fire. Unfortunately, good things come to an end because Edd was making his way over and Emmy was griping her arm so tightly that she was sure blood was no longer running in her limb. She considered calling for Fairy to come over and stop the approaching boy, but she deemed her earlier thought method to be more effective.

"Hey, Julie!" she screamed over the crowd, jumping up and dragging a terrified Emmy with her. Said girl's eyes flickered away from the ground and scanned the area, before finally connecting her eye contact. In front of them, Edd almost slipped, but quickly regained his posture, before taking a few hesitant steps, as if unsure whether he should run back, or keep walking towards them to make it look natural.

Neriah bit back the smirk that she knew was growing on her face. It was no secret that Edd had feelings for Julie, well, to her anyways. Edd lost a bet that she challenged him to on a whim, and in return, he had to offer private information. It was amusing, Neriah found, that Edd froze whenever Julie's name came up, yet he managed to shamelessly hit on possibly every guy and girl who attended this campus. "Your hair's looking amazing as always!" She yelled, and offered a grin she knew people found adorable on her. Wordlessly, she beckoned her over.

Quickly, Edd shuffled over, keeping his gaze away from where the girl was, and grabbed Neriah's arm, face trying to hold its smile. Emmy squirmed next to her, and hid behind her shoulders.

Edd almost glared at the other girl, "relax, darl, I'm not picking on you," he bit. He pulled up Neriah's arm to make her tip-toe, and hissed quietly into her ear, "Fin, what the fuck are you trying to do?"

Neriah wasn't bothered by his barely veiled irritated tone and instead let the smug grin fill her face, "would you like to stay with us?"

Edd hissed, and dropped her arm, before he threw an extremely sugary smile at Emmy, so sweet it could make teeth rot within seconds. "It's not nice to gossip about people, Emmy dearest," he said. Sadly (happily), he was not fast enough to leave them, and Julienne was by their side, hair loose in her chignon to the point where it looked like she hadn't even tied it in the first place. She had her eyebrow raised at Edd, who was about to make a hasty retreat.

"Leaving already, Edd?" She drawled, accent heavy, as she seemed too tired to fix it. Said boy blinked owlishly, before nodding. "Yup, have fun with the girls, Jules," he waved a hand absent-mindedly, and made his way past the people sitting down, back to where he was before.

Neriah was tempted, so close to laughing at his expense and offering him to stay longer, but she was a good kid. Meanwhile, the girl had her forehead scrunched, and was moving her arms around, as if trying to pluck words from the air. "He reminds me of…"

"A chicken's ass?" Emmy finished.

Julie furrowed her brows and shook her head. "No, like…"

"Leonardo Di Caprio?" Neriah offered.

"No! Let me finish!" Julie said, albeit angrily, "my goldfish, off-handed and hasty."

Silence enveloped them within seconds after she finished her sentence.

"Shoot me if I'm wrong, but Julie, did you just refer to him as your goldfish?" Neriah was surprised at the own words leaving her mouth.

Julie nodded affirmably, seeing no wrong in her observation.

"That's a little odd, Jules," Neriah shrugged.

"In what way?" Julie asked, twisting her hair.

Before Neriah could offer another shrug that would no doubt make the other girl angry, Chiron came trotting in, and everyone started finding seats if they haven't done so in the past twenty minutes. There was a loud hustle, and a few kids tripped over logs. Laughter and giggling was still lingering in the air when everyone was seated.

* * *

 **Oliver**

It was official. Oliver could not, did not, and will not ever participate in _singing_. When the whole camp broke into festive 'la, la, la' s, he wanted to bury his head in his hands and maybe make a new living underground. It didn't help that he was hastily shoved into the seat next to Madeline's, so his arm was prickling from being so close to her despite what happened earlier. Judging by the way he was tense during the whole thing too, he probably developed enough muscles to take Royce down with his finger. Not really, he hopes he'd never have to do something like that.

So while Oliver was busy sitting there, ridged like an icicle, (his thoughts are filled with cold things, he isn't sure if he's traumatised), and the fire turns purple. Yeah. _Fucking purple._ This ridiculous story has dragged on too far to be a dream, and Oliver isn't sure if he's that creative, even in his sleep. And seeing fire _change colour_ right before his fucking eyeballs makes him screech. Not really. He's more dignified than that. He just startles like he's been shot, effectively bumping into both Maddy and Royce, who are too distracted to give a damn about him, and is prepped to _faint_ when he sees a girl sitting right next to the fire, or maybe she's _inside_ the fire. Oliver doesn't know – he blinks and she's gone.

The sudden melodious cheering of the campers turn into low, morose mumbling, and the fire is almost as black as the sky. Suddenly, the loud, boisterous singing isn't as embarrassing. Everyone mumbled with sunken faces, cheeks hollow, drifting eyes.

Oliver wants the happiness back.

Chiron claps. The sound rings. Everyone's snapped out of it, whatever mist they've sunken into.

"Now listen, everyone, I know we're all going through some tough times because of the disappearance of our dearest friend, Percy."

Oliver was keen on listening to Chiron, but nothing really goes the way he wants it to, because before he can even _see_ Chiron open his mouth again, he's ripped out of his seat, this violent motion done so many times that he no longer trips or flails around in any way, injuring those around him. Okay, he can't lie; he _might've_ kicked the head of the boy in front of him. And he _might've_ screeched a little, and that sound _might've_ crushed his pride a little, just by the tiniest bit.

The yank was too hard to be Maddy's because he _flies_ through the air, no kidding, and plus she was sitting on his left hand side. The offender, Royce, doesn't have it in him to _apologise_ and Maddy doesn't even _ask_ if he's okay or traumatised, and no one stops them from dragging him away and Oliver's getting worked up over everything and _he's about to scream_ -

He wills himself to calm down before that _thing_ happens again. Nothing scares him more than that blinding anger. It's like he's selling his soul to the devil every time that happens, because it's a state of being a puppet filled with explosives and way too much stuffing and everything feels clouded.

Royce turns around and smiles, and suddenly everything's _alright_. Maddy's by his side, and she rarely ever leaves, so it's reassuring in a way. He shouldn't be so mad at both of them. They surely have good intentions, _apart from torturing him but he decides to ignore that,_ and he shouldn't take them for granted, but he can barely see the ground and everything in his head is rushing by so quickly, he can barely keep up with his own thoughts, _why the hell is everything going by so fast_ , and suddenly Maddy is telling Royce to stop, and there's lots of movement he can't pick up on, and he's panicking, he doesn't know why. He's broken into cold sweat he can _feel it on his face_.

Royce has fifty thousand questions on his face, and even Maddy looks concerned. Meanwhile Oliver is sweating like the Nigeria Falls, and his eyes can't stop flickering around, and _why are these attacks becoming more frequent they should be decreasing_. He wonders again, vaguely, under the haze that's quickly settling on his brain, if his dead father really is cursing him, finding a way to make him miserable even after he's been wiped off the face of earth.

He can hear footsteps; lots of them, there are a lot of people rushing over. _Oh god, oh god he can hear the screaming, he_ _ **hears**_ _the screaming, it's distant but it's getting louder_ , and he's panicking even more now and Maddy's screaming about how something didn't work, but he can't pick up anything. It's like he's dead to the world, and oh god the devil's here to pick him up. He shouldn't describe it as something as morbid as that but he's in a very simple state of mind and only simple words are getting through his head and he's pretty sure he's not breathing but he can't do anything about it and it's only making him more pissed but oh god, he shouldn't be getting pissed.

There's an 'Ollie, breathe mate,' and it sounds like Edd, and _how did he get here_? Is everyone here? There's a reassuring hand on his back and it feels like Jayce but he can't be sure because _nothing is moving oh god he can't move_ , and he needs a _grounding_.

But there's nothing.

It hits Oliver that there's literally _nothing_ he feels a deep connection to. His father's dead, and was never really the idealistic man, and his mother never showed her face to him.

There's a distressed scream and Oliver's not sure if it's coming from his head, or from outside. He can't bring himself to care, and he can't lift his head to look.

His father was a _horrible, horrible,_ man and Oliver hates him _so much_ and he doesn't know why _every single day_ he ends up thinking about him and turns a little sad when he realizes he's dead and _no, his father was a horrible man and he_ _ **deserved**_ _to die_ , but why is he so sad? Why doesn't he have any personal connections to the world around him? It's like Oliver's a wandering ghost and is he really _living_ , is _he_ the one who doesn't deserve to live, and these thoughts are whizzing by before he can stop them and he shouldn't be so negative just because he doesn't have a grounding.

Oliver can't see out of his eyes and _oh boy_ he's really panicking now because he's fucking _blind_ or something, and _holy shit_ that's cold. It takes Oliver a moment, which is _too long_ , to realize that there are hands on his arms gripping him tightly and shaking him and fuck those hands are _cold_.

Oliver is relieved to the point where he might cry, because the black is clearing up in patches, and he thinks he's breathing. Words aren't shoving themselves down his throat a mile a minute, and he can hear the frantic screaming of people around him, especially Maddy's when she almost wails in relief when he starts blinking.

The cold is gone from his arms, and the hands pat his shoulders, "you okay?" and Oliver recognises the voice, _oh wow it's Gale,_ is everyone here? He's pretty sure everyone he's met by far is here; their breathing's heavy and most of them are patting each other on the back.

Oliver feels like he's vomited, or something, because the haze doesn't go away completely, it just lingers there, and suddenly it hits him again that he _has no grounding_. Suddenly he's been thrust into a world of dizziness and he's whirling and he just want's this all to _stop_.

But there are arms around him, hands on his shoulders, comforting phrases and suddenly, he's okay. He almost doesn't notice the red glow above his head until Maddy's screaming.

At first it sounds like a load of blabber and incoherent mumbling, but he soon realized that she was happily repeating the same phrase and jumping around.

"Oliver's the son of Nemesis!"

"FUCK!" That scream was Cliff's, definitely his.

"That means he's on MY TEAM FOR CAPTURE THE FLAG! HA!"

* * *

 **AN: HAHAHA I BET YOU THOUGHT THERE WAS GOING TO BE SAPPY ROMANCE, THAT'S OK I DID TOO, but things took a different turn and I was thrown out of the car, rolled down a cliff, landed myself in a blueberry bush and sat on by a deer, so I conjured up this mess.**


End file.
